I'd love to curl up with you tonight.
Feel you next to me.
Learn the pattern of your breaths.
I'd love to cuddle up in a blanket and watch
the sun dip lazily behind the mountains,
the golden rays reflecting your soul,
the breeze playing with your hair.
I want you to tell me the meaning behind each tattoo
and talk late into the night about life's important things.
I want to fall back, and look at the stars,
and as I look over at you, wonder how you're not up there with them.
Fingers interlocked,
souls dancing under receding moonlight.
Your presence, reflecting the world.

How can somebody be as beautiful as the poems they write?
I have no idea, but **** you do it well.

I enjoyed our conversation last night, and
it's funny how somebody can come out of nowhere and
make a small difference in your life.
And so, I fell asleep with you by my side,
in a roundabout way.
You came to me in my dreams
like a ghost,
soft,
slow,
almost nonexistent.
I didn't know that it was you, until you spoke
in perfect prose and poetry.
You radiate life.
I'm inspired by your words,
and maybe that's why I thought about you today,
even though I maybe shouldn't.
And with each long drag of my cigarette,
I took in deep breaths of you,
and let you linger in my lungs,
flow through my blood,
and rest gently on my mind.
You're attractive
in a profound away.
I know that maybe I shouldn't say too much,
or really let you know that I'm thinking of you,
but, I'm *****, and there's something about a girl
that writes poetry,
that makes me incredibly weak.

Oh, hello lovely thing.
I want you to know that every time I close my eyes
I think of you
and I imagine your words are whispered to me
through each gentle breeze.
I can picture your gorgeous face,
and deep, sad eyes,
and I can see you're the most beautiful poem
ever written.
And every time I read your lines,
I linger on every word,
for I am truly overwhelmed by you.
There's never been a poem like you
and I suppose that's why
I cannot get you
off my mind.

I shouldn't be telling you
that I think you're beautiful,
or that I think of you more often than I would like to admit.
And I shouldn't tell you that I must have read every single line 500 times.
I shouldn't say that I think you're perfect,
or that you make my heart flutter.
I shouldn't let you know that I look forward to seeing your name in my inbox.
I shouldn't say that I have never seen anybody radiate grace quite the way you do.
I shouldn't tell you that I fell asleep last night,
thinking of you.