I knew a girl once
I liked her even,
but she wasnt so sure
Maybe she liked me
And believed I was pure

See I was a writer and she a poet
My pen stole her heart
Perhaps then she had known it

Each line I wrote, fufilled her fantasies
Illustrating things blind to common folk
Her sweetness grew on me
Even the innocence in her ink

But like I said she wasn't so sure
Was it my fault my feelings didn't conjure
My ego is bold and my writing takes over
Wearing my heart on my sleeve
I think thats what drove her
But then again

Intellectual love, rare to come by
We let it go, and feelings die

Still pondering on our first kiss
Life is fleeting and you will be missed.