We'd be perfect, you and I,
I would tell you stories,
And you would make me cry.

We'd be heaven, you and I,
I would give you my dreams,
And you would break my heart.

We'd be a story, you and I,
I would confess my secrets,
And you would keep them,
Locked inside that cold, empty place,
You call your heart.

I'll keep writing poems about you
I'll write poems about your short spiked brown hair,
And how I loved to run my fingers through it,
Because it was  soft and felt nice,
I'll write poems about your long pale neck,
And how I kissed it a million times,
While inhaling your masculine scent,
I'll write poems about your big brown eyes,
And how I could see my reflection in them,
Along with the sparkle that used to shine,
I'll write poems about your eyebrows,
And how I think it's nice that they almost meet,
Because it gives you an innocent look,
I'll write poems about your beautiful lips,
And how I kissed them,
Leaving a stain of red lipstick,
I'll write poems about your smile,
And how it was so big and sincere,
I just could not resist,
I'll write poems about your hands,
And how they stroked my back,
With their soft, gentle touch,

I'll write poems about your height,
And how I loved it,
I loved all 6 feet 3 inches of you,
I still do.
I'll keep writing poems about you.