I haven't picked up the pen
in quite some time

It seems as if I'm forgetting
that poetry is everything I used to be

Writing was my escape
And now I feel more than I can take

Now, I'm picking up the pen
Telling my emotions

Explaining the writers block that controlled me

I will finally start again

i want to kiss you,

everywhere

i want to hold your face in my hands
and i want to feel you lying next to me when my body has given in to exhaustion.

i want to see you smile,
and i want to make you happy.

i want to know what made you,
and i want to know what makes you doubt yourself.

i want to know if you've ever let the voices in your head get to you.
and when you tell me no,
i want to know what they could have possibly said to make you lie to me.

i don't want you to keep yourself hidden.

i want all of you.

i want to know about your demons,
and i promise i won't leave you when you finally tell me about them.

i want to know about the ones who make your days grey,
and about that time you almost let them win.

i want to make you feel powerful
and i want to make you feel loved.

i want you to know that i think you're beautiful,
and that i think that scar above your right eyebrow makes you a work of art.

you are an unfinished painting.

and by the time God is done with you,
you will be beyond perfect.

and when He puts you in a gallery,
next to those who are known as angels,
you will know then,

that you are extraordinary.