I miss the way you said my name
I miss loving you and you feeling the same
I miss that loving, lustful look in your eyes
I miss how around how around time always flies
I miss how every moment with you made want a million more
I miss looking at you, you're the most beautiful thing I ever saw
I miss you, because I'm still in love
and you're still an angel, belonging above

Your beauty is something to which words can't compare
I love you more that anything, as I trust you're aware
You're more perfect than I could ever describe
I'll love you forever, this feeling won't subside
You're my perfect little angel, you
I'll love you no matter what you do.

Poetry is meant to be words I've said, that I'd be happy to be remembered for.
And other peoples poetry, are words I've read, that I'm happy to remember.
But I've lost so many, so many of mine I haven't written down.
I've lost so many of the ones I read, but were deleted.
The thing is, nothing would make me happier than remembering yours,
yet they are slowly slipping from my memory.
I can't find most of them anywhere for me to reread,
but I don't want to lose them.
Because you are someone else's poetry now,
but those poems you wrote, perhaps at least they could still be mine.

Where went the days, when words were there?
When we'd talk all day, and I was allowed to care?
Now I can barley think, of words to type.
The one I want to say, I just don't have the right.

Over the hills, the sun starts to rise,
and in my heart, all hope surely dies,
I love you little angel, but you're gone for good,
so I'm moving on, as you said I should.
Her hair isn't perfect. Her lips aren't sweet.
She's not the most beautiful girl, I ever did meet.
But the scars on my aback, from her well maintained nails,
feel like old times, and so my heart sails.
and I wish, that you were the one,
but oh well for now, I'll just have some fun.

Why can't I delete the poetry?
It's not like you'll ever reread it.
Why then do I leave it online?
It can only hurt me more.

I removed all the other evidence,
that I ever existed to you.
That necklace is lost to sea,
and those I love you texts are gone.

But my poems are still on hellopoetry,
and I don't know why that is,
as much as I wish I could remove them,
I really just don't have the strength.

What good is a poet, when there are no words to find?
No words to say, how your beauty's refined.
What good are poems, when I can't say how I feel?
Can't tell you the feelings, that I conceal.

Yet today was amazing, I had so much fun.
On this beautiful day, spent with you in the sun.