You are my poem.
Untold,
so true,
but awfully blue.

You are my song.
Silvery,
so gentle,
but tragically sung.

You are my story.
Explicit,
so fine,
but a fancy crime.

You are my landscape.
Beautiful,
so natural,
but blandly done.

But,
yes.
I know.
It's just
*You were.