i don't know what to do
when you're not around. what use
are these hands, if not for combing
through your curls? what do my lips do,
when they're not kissing you?
my arms are restless, my head heavy-
weighed down by thoughts of you, always-
and my ukulele never sings quite the same
as it does for you.
i love you. i love you. how many
times must i say it? can you not see
that you are perfect? you make me happy.
i wish you were here. i wrote you a poem.
all of these are different equations with
the exact same result. i love you.
i think i was made to hold you.
what is this heart for, if not to be yours?
YOU ARE READING
We Are Still Growing
PoetryThis is my 3rd poetry book. I am leaving the first 2 on my account as they are part of my past and a way to mark how far I've come, but they are, as the kids say, mad cringe. Just a little collection of my newer poetry, for my own sake really. Pleas...
