If you asked me to tell where the ceiling ends and the walls begin, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. When I think about you everything blurs into black like an unkindness of ravens. And I— You are the only thing that ever crosses my mind as soon as dusk turns into night, and I could never tell you why. I like to think that just as birds know when to fly and time knows when to die, I was meant to love you.
When you are too afraid to tell someone "I love you" so you write a poem that dances around the subject