Amazing and beautiful,
not a flower or a tree.
Much prettier than that,
and only I can see.

Loving and caring
right down to the core.
Filling me with happiness
and so much more.

Eyes are so stunning,
cannot look away.
Gorgeous and shining
all throughout the day.

Here in your arms 
is where I belong.
The beating of your heart
is like a beautiful song.

Before I started draining parts of me
onto this page
I couldn't see for the clearest of paths,
I would dwell,
Hide away in my own safe house
Of saturated stories.

I would scratch my head catching gravity
between my fingertips.
A color would be a rainbow in black skies
of circling crows.

The floor around me would move
dancing along,
It would lead me and my pen to paper
Like a knight's sword to stone.
I would wonder why my mind
Could paint,
My thoughts would explode
into millions of fireflies.

Sometimes I would see the most
flawless imagery
But I couldn't write it down for the awe
of being lost,
Inside my own world of untold stories,
and poetry.

A loaded pen
is just as deadly as a loaded gun.
It'll pierce your heart
just the same.

The difference is;
one will let you breathe,
but you won't live.
-m.b

She was not fragile like a flower;
She was fragile like a bomb.

It starts off so pretty,
So fresh and bright.
It withers away
When not given light.

Some days
In the dark of the night.
It fades away,
Without a fight.

Hold close to your heart,
Don't give it away.
Unless you're sure
It won't wither away.