The transition was a magical thing.
The butterflies,
finally grown and matured enough to be on their own,
have left my stomach.
They were once wrapped tightly in their cocoons.
But when I met you,
they began to evolve into something beautiful.
Then all at once, they were flying . . .
All around my stomach every time I heard your name.
And when I saw you,
they got so excited they could barely contain myself.
And when you kissed me and held me in your arms,
they had never felt more alive.
But now that they have gone,
it is only love that remains.
When I hear your name,
it warms my heart like golden rays of sun.
Each time I see you I am complete again,
no longer living half alive.
And when you kiss me,
my body fills with the oxygen I need to keep me alive.
The time has come when you are my lifeline.
No longer an infatuation,
but a necessity that I need without thinking about it.  
So do me a favor, my love.
Next time you look up at the stars in the sky,
see if you can find our names.
I promise they're written up there.

I wish I had the words
To describe the feeling
Of your lips upon my lips.
I wish I had the words
To describe the times
When your fingers touch my skin.
I wish I had the words
To accurately explain
How I feel about you.
Heaven.
Paradise.
Unconditional love.
The epitome of shangri-la
Comes nowhere close
To being next to you.
The paragon of perfection,
Only a fraction
Of my feelings for you.
The quintessential Prince Charming
Has nothing on
How you treat me
Like a princess,
Your princess.
Words are not enough.
I wish I could describe
How much I love you
But there is not a word.
To say I only love you
Would be an insult.

I must be an angel, though I don't always believe it
I must be a princess, because you are my prince.
I must be beautiful, though mirrors and society cloud my view of myself.
I must have an amazing voice, because you like to listen to it.
I am perfect.
And I know this because you tell it to me.
You must be right, because you deserve the best, so I must be the best.

Today, I am wearing my socks inside out like you do.
Isn't it marvelous how things so unusual and imperfect can become things we can't live without?

I’ve always had a way with words.
They said I should be a lawyer because
I knew how to convince them of whatever I wanted them to believe.
I know when to sugar coat the facts, and
when to give the cold hard truth.
My problem is knowing when to keep my mouth shut.
My mother always told me,
“If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”
But since when do I listen to my mother?
My wit is quick, and bites the pride of others when I strike.
My words are sharp, they cut like glass, only after they leave my mouth.
I wish my tongue was forged of broken glass.
Maybe then I’d know how my words can hurt,
and they’d hurt me instead,
before they ever left to scratch someone else.