I could write a poem about loving you,
but I won't.
If I wrote you a poem, it would be great,
but I won't.
It might mention that you are always in my heart,
but it doesn't because I didn't write it.
It might describe the warmth of holding you close,
but it won't because I didn't write it.
It might speak of soft lips, skin, and hair,
if it were written, which it isn't.
It could depict a heart that beats for you, for two,
but that poem hasn't been written.
There might be a Princess surrounded by butterflies,
or an Angel whose eyes sooth any pain, and a smile
which causes the sun to shine each morning. There
may be some pain, some questions, regret, and even
despair, but there won't because I did not write it.
by
Thorneposted on 06/11/2008