You’re the singer standing in front
Of a standing ovation
Trying to hide behind a microphone
Because you cannot comprehend
How bright you are
Actually shining

I own one spoon
one knife
one fork
one bowl
and one plate
but I own two mugs
in hopes we'll fall in love over a cup of coffee.

I've been tapping my pen on my spiral
trying to put words to emotion --
trying to explain a sensation so serene.
I wanted to tell you, in clever woven words
that when you touch my waist, my heart stops
that I'm not ticklish, I just want you to hold me
that your cold green eyes make me feel so warm.
What I'm trying to say -- what I want to tell you is
that I'll never be able to be sad with you around --
you wouldn't let me;
that I can't think straight with you near
and that's why I practice talking in my room.
I want to be able to tell you these things
in sophisticated metaphors and similes,
but the only thing that comes to mind
is you.