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A verbose set of wordsthoughtful for sure,but in other wordswho needs all this?My book of poemslying open on the floor. I never claimedI was above it all,after all you’re the onethat wanted to becomeMy forever girl. Maybe I want youto write something that makes me feel beautiful. Tonight,when I pick you upwalk up to mein…

Love will destroy that sense of selfyou’re no longer on your own. Love is selfisha singular manipulation making thoughts hard to focus. Love can be a thiefsneaking in and taking controlmaking it impossible to breathe. Love is my dangerous companionmaking us do thingswe normally wouldn’t. Love is a dark strangerslammed and thrown downagainst the minutes…

The Valentine all laid outstill recovering fromthe arrowsCupid shot. This is the hour that truly counts,surviving last night. We are after all each other’s first and only thought. Love sits balancedon just the tipas you reach outI pull in. Shh, go quietlyforget me not.

Temperamental touch,with just eyes this timeif you don’t mindI’ll stay behindand write the words you’ve always wanted. I know,more than anyone elsethere’s something softthat goes right through youto that center spot. I promise, love,I won’t ask for mucha season or twoso I can gather and find the exact proper wordswritten in my poetry. I’ve given…

Here from the start,this might be the fourth dayme trying to convince the girlto come with a playful kiss. Perhaps she’s too wiseto fall for my little tricks. “C’mon poet,we do our best when there are no rules to follow.”I can understand her point,she is the one after all,calling all the big and heavy shots…