I sat down to write a love poem,
A love poem about you and me.
A poem that would surpass all those before it,
That describes our love down to the smallest detail.
One that has everything I love about you,
Condensed down to a couple lines of lyric.
And yet my pen is still,
for all the phrases that come to my mind are cliched,
And reminiscent of so many poems written before.
But our love is unique and new.
It is not the love of old love poems,
Written by dead men to dead women.
Our love poem is about me and you,
The boy who stole my heart but,
Instead of running away you stayed.
You never left my side and I fell for you.
I'm still falling in love with you,
And I will keep falling in love with you,
Every day you make me smile,
Or laugh or kiss me or hold me.
Here I go again with my cliches,
Our love feels so unique and new.
But maybe it's not as new as I think,
Maybe our love is like those dead poems,
Written by dead men to dead women.
Did they sit at their desks and ponder,
The perfect phrase to express their love?
But they were free of all cliches,
Free from the pressures to explain love in a new way.
And here I am shackled by their poems,
They form irons on my mind and cast doubt in my heart.
Maybe it isn't unique or new,
I have hope though that we are different.
That our love is something different,
And that I will one day find the right words,
To say I love you in a million different ways.
But for now you must settle for the simple but cliched,
I love you and I'm falling deeper in love with you every day.