"She was an
unusual dresser.
Every night,
she wore bruises
on her heart,
love on her lips,
pain in her eyes,
and ink on her fingers.
They called her poetry."

last night
the moon heard my tears insult you
they called you pretentious
irritating
and a waste of time

yet when the sun rose
my dry eyes adored you
and once again
ecstasy raced through my chest
when i felt the breeze of your purple gaze
as if every sunrise
you drew a cross through my heart
making it yours when my eyes are dry

Valentines, yeah, I've had a few

Secret admirers? dozens

Broken hearts? A couple of those too.

Crazy adventures? Oh, Plenty!

Blessings, too many to count,

Miracles certainly!

But, nothing, nothing compares to you

My love,

the best part of my best days

The highest of my highs

In my darkest days

And longest nights

You ******* alive!

I know implicitly,

You are the one

the title is yours