Love is like a flower
It can be so delicate
And when you are seduced    
with its beauty and delicacy
You will want to pluck it.
But plucking, in essence,
Kills the flower
Love is different.
Love is leaving it be;
Letting it flourish
and growing with the flower.
Love is watering the flower
when it needs it.
Love is letting the flower
Live among its kind
if it desires it.
Love is appreciating,
Love is beautiful
but when one tries to control
or mold someone into an idea,
this is when love dies

You are a novel
gathering dust on my shelf
but not because I don’t want to read
but because I’m afraid
to turn the page,
afraid of how you’ll end

sometimes
                                                       ­                         my
                                     ­ brain
                       doesn’t
                                                       ­     work

right
                                                ­                               and

                             my

                                              thoughts

     ­                                         scatter

               ­                                                    like
                               beads

                                     spilled
                               on
                                                              ­                 tile

floor