like black charcoal smudges that turn soft
the two of you blend together
he is the romantic
not attacking you with love
but knowing when you need it
his vintage porsche in the shop
but he'll go home on the train
to work the grave shift
again
just to be with you
to make cookies with you
to see "the family"
and you are the girl
every art school boy noticed
the magenta, blorange, and
jet black
who somehow calms in his presence
it amazes me but I welcome it
and he is welcome too
i approve
sometimes I want to write a poem, and I did. Can't decide whether to give it to the people (well person) it's about or if it's too ******. Plus , I don't think they appreciate poetry. What do you think?