I stand in a meadow, confused and lost,
Amidst a war won, before it's even been fought,
There are screams of agony, and flailing limbs,
Muscled warriors, and butchered wimps,
And then a river of red, not water nor blood,
Bearing men of scarlet, all seemingly mad,
There is a scream, then the world turns cold,
A revelation of the future passed on, but yet untold,
I stand in the middle of it all, invincible it seems,
A god yet a mortal, in the world of dreams.

Who will love me on the dead of the night,
Who will love me in the days so bright,
Who will love me in the solace of cold,
Who will love me in the ages so old,
Who will love me in times of fear,
Who will love me to hold me,
Who will love me when I'm at my worst,
Who will love me when I'm at my best,
Who will love me when I'm distressed,
Who will love me when I might be stressed,
Who will love me when I feel alone,
I need someone to love me when I'm all alone,

Hastened glances, like frightened mice,
A kiss on the cheek, oh wouldn't that be nice?
I long for her touch, her sweet, sensitive touch,
A smile or maybe a "hey", or is that too much?
Chalk dust smothers the air, like a foreboding mist,
Echoing my thoughts, "does she even know I exist?",
I stare at her, and feel my heart turn to mush,
But deep down I know, this is just a classroom crush.

I close my eyes and think of you,
And I smile when you say, "I love you too."

I don't really remember much, but what I can't get out of my head is her eyes; not cold ice blue eyes, but warm sky blue eyes, that somehow find a way to warm my heart whenever I stare into them. I also remember her glasses, their night black frames, creating a beautiful contrast with her soft blue eyes and smooth alabaster white skin that glows in the sun light. And her hair; golden strands of woven sunlight that always seem to gleam and never lose their luster. Her lips were like soft carved roses, glistening in the sunlight whenever she laughed. And I almost forgot the little things; her laugh that was able to make me smile whenever, regardless of the situation, a laugh like the tinkling of bells, rushing of waterfalls, and all other wonderful sounds condensed into one unit. And her body, a figure fit for gods! But what I remember the least, the detail that escapes me the most, is her amazing scent. A blend of the intoxicating aromas of pine and lavender, all swirling around to create one of the vital details in her embodiment. Whenever I'm down, I close my eyes and bring together all these little details, and there she stands; my muse. But I will find her, the real her. For a life without my muse, is a life not worth living.

Oh, love, a pain so unbearably sweet,

    Riddled with joy, infused with tragedy,

    A task for the brave, a Herculean feat,

    An alluring disease, a malady

    Unobstructed by fate, untouched by time,

    It is the passion in every sorrow,

    The light, upon the destruction and grime,

    The uncharted path, a road not followed,

    Guided, by the iron shackles of fate,

    Steadied, by the hold of insanity,

    My friend, beware of those iron bound gates,

    Imbued with pride, alloyed with vanity,

    For I have been shot by Lord Cupid's dart,

    Leaving me now, with just a lover's heart.

Her eyes are blue, like the deep blue ocean,

    Her smile intoxicating, like Cupid's love potion,

    With hair as golden as Apollo's bow strings,

    And a laugh as enthralling, as the songs the Siren sings,

    Am I alone in this, am I insane?

    Is love this strong, so full of pain?

    Is it so blinding, with so many paths awinding,

    Endowed with captivity, and stone hard binding?

    Or maybe I'm just a fool, a fool for love,

    Trapped by the call, the song of the dove,

    But then she looks, and I lose all uncertainty,

    For this is my paradise, this is my eternity.