If you were a poem, I'd hold you real tight, Crumple your fragile edges In a white-knuckled grip. I'd study you by candlelight And your secrets quietly allege.
If you were a poem, Would you even be mine? Would such a lovely thing Belong in my desperate hands? Your heart could contain answers, But I'm still questioning.
If you were a poem, Could I ever be brave enough To share the wonder you see With the world you love? The thing is that you were the Selfless one; it was never me.
If you were a poem, I'd memorize every stroke Of your artful frame. Then, with your words Stowed in my heart, I'd set you aflame.
In which I poke and **** around a very selfish side of "love."