From the Hopeless Romantics - The Anthology

To Be a Poet

It's hard sometimes
For my true love
To only exist in words

Because so often
You're on my mind
Yet I don't know what you look like

Not aside from the words that I write
To imagine who you are
The things you like
The things you hate

It's hard sometimes
To be a poet
Because it means
That perhaps
I'm only a fool with pretty words

Ethereal
Enchanting
Effervescent
Eternal
Enthralling

They're all words I could use
To describe you
But what do they all mean
If what I'm describing
Only exists in the graphite
That scrapes against my paper

What do they all mean
If you're not even real?

Because there's a weight on my shoulders

Sometimes it's a glorious weight
To know that you'll always exist

But sometimes it's an awful weight
To know that you don't exist

In the end
It doesn't matter

Because I know
That someday
No matter how far that day is
You will exist

And my words
Will no longer be fiction
But rather
They will embody
The very real feeling
Of your hand in mine