I write about love and I write about hate
I am a writer who was born to create

I am a writer
I write with a pen and I type with a whirl
I'm a writer, a poet, a creative girl.

I am a writer
Hear the whoosh of my pen
I am a writer and I'll say it again

Because I am a writer
I want to be heard
So I'll write every sentence with thought in each word

I write about love and all that is great
I am a writer who was born to create

The scenery is dull
And you're feeling death's pull
And the sky is an ominous boat of gravy

But the scenery's bright
In the middle of the night
When the sky is swirled in navy.

The scenery's lonely
And you are the only
Life in the march of a swarm

The scenery is dull
And you're feeling death's pull
But it feels refreshingly warm.

There are infinite stars
And infinite wishes
That I mouth in my restless sleep
There are millions of words
That I wanted to say
But I conceal every peep.

There are billions of people
With billions of thoughts
It what seems like billions of hours a day.
Millions of miles
And infinite wishes
*Why is he so far away?

Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy, greed
The allure of lust confused with need

Fear, fear of floating or falling
Crying to feel the sting of your bawling

Anger, anger, joyful or sad
It hurts so much
*But it's not so bad.

I love you
I love you too

To say it, to say it aloud

I love you
I love you too

To feel it, to let it all out

I just wanted to hear it
I'll say it again

I love you to the moon and back

I love you
I love you too

Saying it, knowing for a fact.

That *I love you
I love you too

I miss you, I miss your sweet touch

I love you
I love you too

And I miss you, I miss you so much

I could write you a sonnet
An epic in length
I could paint you a picture
With an acre's worth of paint
But to write you a sonnet
I'd need to confess
A love for you, darling
That I cannot express
I could write you a sonnet
But would you even read
My letter to you
In my time of need?

*This time I need you

The words on my lips are too sweet to reveal
So I beg for your pardon as my poem is concealed
The rhyme and the prose, I'm too scared to say
So it fails to see the light of day
The words they lust but will reach you not
But they will live on. They'll live on in my thought.
There are words that I want you to know
And I'm sorry, I'm sorry
But I can't let them show.

*Forgive me