and maybe it's all the little things...
all the words you've said,
all the times we've laid together in bed,
all the ways you show you care,
all the times you're with me when life is hard to bear,
not because i can't do it on my own like i have before,
but because i think you actually care and are a person that in turn, i care for.
in all these little things that i've grown to see,
i hope i can become a better woman, one that you might need me to be,
i want to comfort you if you need it most,
be the first girl there to be proud of your accomplishments and raise a toast,
i never want to hurt you,
but i want to always apologize if i ever do.
in all the little things one thing is clear to me,
you're the only man for however long we may be a 'we', that i want to see,
in all honesty i was afraid of trusting you with my heart,
but now i see that you've slowly just become a main part,
you're everything that i've ever hoped for,
and i hope you know that you mean all of these things above and more.

i write most of these poems when i'm hurt or upset.
but also when i feel like i went wrong or have something i said that i regret.
it's to clear my thoughts and imagination.
to give myself time to think with very little hesitation.
it's never that i don't want you as the person in my life.
but rather me handling any fear i've felt and my inner strife.

people say that from up above you can hear,
but what if all i want and need is for you to be near.
so i can get angry and upset one last time,
so that i can hold onto you and write you one last rhyme.
if you're not around in my life anymore,
how can i heal from the pain that's in my heart at its core.
how can i talk to someone who isn't there,
if you won't answer and i only see those lifeless eyes stare.
you're in an abyss, a place unknown,
and god only knows if you're trying to find your way back home.
i know, i know, you won't be coming back,
but the feeling of having no mother is starting to make my heart crack.

as these roots grow deeper,
the seeds of love grow eager,
they want to strive
for a deeper thirst in which they dive.

boom, a sprout begins to bloom.

someday very soon,
under the sun, not the moon,
our petals blossom and display,
our feelings at which we kept at bay.