I didn't want to be cliché about it,
but he was the sun after the rain.
He was the light after the outage.
The courage in fear,
and the dessert after the meal.

He was the sigh of relief after a long day,
he was the wind in my sails on the vast ocean of my open heart.

I didn't want to be cliché about it, but there was no other way to describe the way I felt in my heart. Anything was possible. There was no reason to listen to sad music anymore, because for once in my life I was happy.

The poems I wrote weren't just strings of word simply pressed against a dead tree someone processed so we can write on, but heavy weighted letters that put together the reasons why you could look at a person and feel more at home than the place you grew up in.

He sat there asking me how much I loved him,
I pictured the rest of my life,
and how nice it would be with him holding my hand for the rest of forever.
I didn't want to be cliche about it,
"As much as the night brings out the stars, after the hours of them being covered up."