She paints me as a dream even as I see my flaws beneath the decorated canvas
Shes plays my heart, string for string and I might have thought she had been playing all her life
Love wasn’t something I knew before her, it’s like I was living in grey scale and she was the first thing I saw in color
The other day I saw a red bird perched on my balcony
I thought to text her and tell her in that moment I knew
I didn’t believe in signs from God until I saw her and then they started appearing at my door to sing me good morning
For a while I was convinced there wasn’t anyone who could know me like this
My heart is a sink full of ***** dishes I always distract myself from cleaning, but she listens
I’m not much of a love poet, but if I were to decide to write about love,
it would be about her