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May 2015
I never liked writing about beautiful things like the way your voice echoes in my ears when you come over in the morning to wake me with soft kisses. Or how we used to hold hands at 3 AM trudging blindly through December's icy breeze and how worth it the bitter cold wind was just to spend some time alone with you. Or how in the spring time, when the ice and sleet melted away exhaustingly into the ground, flowers would sprout up following your every step. They, too, knew your beauty. You're a 'worth it' type of person.
You see, I never liked writing about beautiful things because I never really knew how. My mind was a grave someone dug up and pushed me in and I could never find  way to climb out. I would sit there, my body cold and full of rage and I would stain the walls with dark words. Destruction was the only form of creation I knew until your singsong voice lifted my heart so high I was dancing on the clouds.
You see, I never liked writing about beautiful things but you have features that every artist looks for in a muse. Your voice sounds like my favorite poem and if our love was a treadmill and the only way to keep it alive was to run, I'd never stop, even when my legs become heavy and shaky.
I never liked writing about beautiful things but I know how you whisper 'I love you' in a sleep daze and I adore your mouth when you lean to kiss me in a sleepy daze. You are beautiful when you are innocent. You are the only beautiful thing I've ever written about. And I will not be afraid of you or your scars as I know you don't fear mine. I will write a dictionary of all the words I've ever thought to describe you. I will write a novel about the scar under your eye. I will write poem after poem telling you, telling the world, that you are beautiful and I am not afraid to write beautiful words anymore. I will make sure to hold you on your bad days, my arms will bandage. I will take every photo you dislike of yourself and tape them to my mirror to show you I think you're incredible. I will brush every fallen eyelash off your cheek, wipe your mouth when it's ***** with crumbs, assume the role of caretaker when you're sick. I will do beautiful things for you because I can.
I will love you like I was never broken.
For Anthony
Emily Budrow
Written by
Emily Budrow  New Jersey
(New Jersey)   
637
   Cecil Miller
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