I’d say that I love you,
But I worry in truth,
That I love you in plain-form,
Is nothing too new.

I could write about angels,
Who soar high above,
Who symbolize hope,
And feelings of love.

I could say that you are one,
And tell you it’s true,
That I think often always,
About me and you.

But I worry too much,
That it’s always cliche,
To say that I love you,
In just such a way.

So I take up a pen,
And dry out the ink,
Writing this way and that,
About what I think.

How I think you’re an angel,
Who soars high above,
On gentle white wings,
With a halo of love.

Or just how often,
Through the course of a day,
I lose all my breath,
When you take it away.

I could say all these things,
But it’s all so cliche,
So I tear up the paper,
With nothing to say.