Roses are red
Violets are blue
This poem is stupid
But I love you

Whether it be for a day
A month
A decade
Or eternity
He will wait for her
Those relationships you hear about in songs
Those relationships you see in movies
Those relationships you dream about in fairytales
They don't exist
In those stories you only see the good
You never see the tough
The hard
The parts that destroy relationships
You want a relationship to work
To thrive
To live in eternity
You have to work on it
You have to show the other that it means something to you

I know a lot of people who say that they want a relationship not a job
I'm sorry but a relationship is part job
You have to work at it
You have to practice
You have to get better
If you never work at it you won't succeed
If you don't succeed you will never know true happiness

trust me that it is worth the work
Worth the job
Worth the wait
It is worth all the things that you are scared of
It is worth risking everything for one person
Because true happiness doesn't just appear
You work for it
You prove that your worth it
And then it happens
And it makes you fall harder

So he will stay
He will wait
He will be there
Because she makes him happy
Happy in a way that no one can ever make him
Happy in a way that no one can ever take from him

I waited once
I will wait again
M.L.G

The way to her heart,
Is through respect,
You want to love her,
You need to love her friends,
You need to love her family,

Before you ever ask her,
Ask her father,
Show him,
That you are the man that respects him,
That you respect his daughter,

Get his permission to date,
Get his permission to be serious,
Get his permission to marry her,

Wherever life takes you,
Wherever loves takes you,
Respect her,
She is fragile,
She is precious,
She is the most valuable thing that you will ever have.

Love her as if you would never love again,
Kiss her as if it is your last,
Hold her as to comfort her,
Look her in the eyes when you tell her you love her,

Respect the things she says,
Her heart only trusts so many times,
Don't use all your chances to make her happy or she will find someone who will,

As the quote goes,

Protect her like a daughter,
Respect her like a mother,
Love her like a wife.

Be

Responsible,
Empower her,
Support her,
Personalize her problems,
Enrich her life,
Communicate,
Together live life

Maybe,
It’s not about finding
The light at the end of the tunnel,
Maybe,
The tunnel doesn’t even
End, and the light isn’t
The warm glow of a
Sun so high above,
But the dim illumination
From a floodlight, dusty,
And draped with cobwebs,
And maybe,
The floodlight isn’t there,
It’s shattered and its pieces
Bury into the skin of your
Bare feet as you step on them,
And continue to trek forward in
Darkness, towards the next light.
Maybe,
That’s a good thing.
You’re in a tunnel after all,
You can’t drown in blackness as
Easily as you can the sea.
Maybe,
The extra darkness
Makes the next floodlight
Brighter, and you’ll
Stop, and bathe in it a
While as your aching lings
Finally rest.
Maybe,
If you’re brave,
You’ll think you can
Live under the light,
Unaware that you’ll
Lose your knowledge
Of the darkness,
And when your light
Finally coughs,
And shudders
And dies,
You’ll get lost in the dark again,
Turned around,
Heading away from the new lights ahead.
Or maybe,
You prefer the shadows,
Carry a bat,
Or a golf club,
Or whatever blunt weapon
Catches your fancy,
And you smash each light
You pass,
Cutting the feet of all those
Behind.

Maybe,
There isn't a light at the end of the tunnel,
Just an endless string of floodlights,
Bright,
Shattered,
And lost.

Amongst the stretches
Of chiseled sidewalk
Stuck with gum and bullet holes,

Waves of black water
Spilled over grass
Dangling in the pull
Of the moon's smirk.

Strung from strands
Of yarn not yet dyed
Hung a bench of sticks
And thorns and buds
With the potential to be
Pretty,

And with shoes cuffing
The ankles of skin
Pale as the shallow murk
Of the wavering sky,
Swinging with the steady
Beat of the croaks
And raspy whispers from
A hat covered head,

A splash of water,
Cool with the gentle peace
Of the final page
Of a book unwritten,
But open to any reader
Who dare choke on the waves themselves.

The house was flat,
But filled with
Shivering candles
Licking away the dark
That lingered like
Broken lovers
Kicking dented cans
Down the foggy road
Beneath an October moon

So warm in its
Lovely illusion.

A rope tied
Me to her
While everyone
Else pretended
To sway,
Connected with
Dotted lines.

The fields were
Drenched in the
Silent static
That shimmered hesitantly
From a brew of clouds
Huddled up high.