This love is not the one you’re haunted by.
You are not subject to demons’ torment.
That scar is not enough to terrify.
That ghost of hurt is not malevolent.

Not everyone you see will wear a mask,
Nor every feeling from some witch’s spell.
No monster gives you poison when you ask,
Nor is your tale a ghost story to tell.

Your life is more than just a vampire’s meal.
You might find peace below the fullest moon.
Tonight for once release the fear you feel.
Redemption from your fear is coming soon.

Though heartbreak is your scariest thing yet,
To miss new love’s a scarier regret.

What could compare to that first kiss?
To the expectation of bliss?
Testing the softness of her lips,
Awkwardly touching noses’ tips.
As her pink lips open a touch,
As you slow from pressing too much.
The first time that she tilts her head,
You touch her cheek with words unsaid.
The first time you slide down her chin,
And she lets your upper lip in.
The dream you had seen in her smile,
Is there for you to stay a while.
You taste her and smell her perfume,
With feeling too much to consume.
Sugar has never been so sweet,
As when your tongues finally meet.
You don’t need to open your eyes,
Each movement’s a perfect surprise.
Tongue and lips touch delicately,
With powerful intensity.
Love at first sight waited for this.
Nothing compares to your first kiss.

Did you know when you posed for that photo
That it would represent my sincerest dreams?
Did you know, posing, letting yourself go
That you would represent all of love's themes?

There's a picture I can't look away from
With simplicity of your innocence.
There's a picture of what love can become
With simplicity, strength and elegance.

Your lines and curves and perfection of shape
Transport my soul and take hold of my gaze.
Your lines of your chest o'er shoulder and nape
Transport my soul to see beauty and praise.

You are the picture I paint in my head
Of beauty that only exists in thought.
You are the picture I dream of in bed.
Of beauty that I have forever thought.

When the clouds part just a sliver
And the sun is like an echo,
O’er the Earth with light to give her,
To make a ray of sunlight glow.

Angels pass upon the sunbeam,
They carry light from God above,
Our so one ray of light would seem.
With sky awash in aural love.

A point of light from overhead
Expands around us from the gray,
Like a halo upon our head
Adorning us on our dark day.

To see Heaven illuminate,
When all the light has been obscured,
Reminds us that it’s not too late.
The world is sick but can be cured.

Why even one?
Why should even one die?
Why should even one die from hate?

Life is too short.
Life is too short to die unnaturally.
Life is too short to die unnaturally from hate.

Why doesn’t man learn?
Why doesn’t man learn not to ****?
Why doesn’t man learn not to **** for hate?

What’s God’s purpose?
What’s God’s purpose for making man die?
What’s God’s purpose for making man die from hate?

Why sacrifice?
Why sacrifice six million?
Why sacrifice six million and eleven more?

God made man.
God made man hate.
God made man hate his distance from Him.

God cries out.
God cries out for our response.
God cries out for our response to hate.

God is looking.
God is looking for man.
God is looking for man to return.
God is looking for man to return to Holiness.

She’s so real it doesn’t matter.
So real I can imagine her.
When my heart fails and eyes are weak,
She’s Monday morning to my week.

Her beauty is springtime’s envy.
Her beauty is my energy.
Awake or in my dreams I seek,
I need her smile to start my week.

I close my eyes to watch it grow,
Her beauty’s everywhere I go.
Like sunlight o’er horizon’s peak,
She is the sunshine of my week.

I see her now and evermore,
On Mondays though I need her more.
When missing her makes things look bleak,
I think of her to start my week.

I write about beauty thinking of you,
And the awe in my soul from what you do.
I write about dreams that you made come true.
Words are mine but inspiration is you.

I write about blue skies thinking of you,
And miracles based on things that you do.
Love is a fantasy that you made true.
My poetry is inspired by you.

I write about hopes thinking of you,
And seeing God’s hand in all that you do.
Lies I believed you made no longer true.
Art that I see is inspired by you.

I heard wondrous words coming from you,
And watched all the new things you liked to do.
You made my tears when you swore it was true—
It was I who was inspiring you.