I thought I’d write a poem for you,
But what would I say?
That you brighten my life,
And give me better days?
Or that my life is incomplete without you,
When in actuality I felt complete before you,
But now that I have you, I feel whole.
I could write line after line,
Pouring out my muse,
But wouldn't that mean
I’d be pouring out you?
When in thought does each reflection of you not surface?
Where the beauty in your passion,
The ferocity in your person,
The tenderness of your touch,
The scent of your love,
Is all I have ever wanted for us?
If I wrote a poem for you,
It would be everlasting,
Because you, my love, are my ending—
As well as my beginning.