I wrote my love a poem
so he would hear me breathing
in his ear, every moment
the things that make me love him.
I wrote my love a poem
so he would never doubt
never wonder or think about
my eye ever wandering wayward.
I wrote my love a poem
so he could ever see
what beats inside of me
echoing from higher places.
I wrote my love a poem
so he could be sudden seeing
just whats come into being
what has sparked to life like fire.
I wrote my love a poem
so he can hold my passion
closely to his skin
and never doubt the truth
of my love overflowing.
This rain beating down
against her skin.
She feels all alone
again and again.
She asks herself
“Why me, oh Lord”.
But no one can help her
in this forsaken world.
Yet I’m in my room
thinking of her alone,
and I’m dreaming of her
which she will never know.
She cries out in pain
at this agony of hurt.
The only one that can save her
is none other than her.
She looks in the mirror
and she hates what’s staring back.
Shes about to leave home
she slowly starts to pack.
Yet I’m in my room
thinking of her alone,
and I’m dreaming of her
which she will never know.
She suddenly thinks of me,
and now we’re thinking of each other.
We think about our alikeness
and how we love one another.
She thinks about her self-control
and how that’s all she lacks.
She suddenly hears my voice
and she slowly, then, unpacks.
Yet I’m in my room
and she’s thinking of me too,
and I’m dreaming of her
which she always knew.