Love...love
That word is sticky and blurred in my brain
When I look for the right words it seems my body and mind concur
To love is to want to give your all yet still feel like it's not enough
To love is to be infatuated, plain and simple
I love all of you...
I love you down to the last dimple
No, i am infatuated, I am wrapped around your smallest finger
You have me on a string yet still treat me gingerly
I give my full dedication even though there's always confrontation
I give you my heart, for in my eyes you're a work of art
I never thought you'd accept, but when you did my heart and mind still lept
My feelings were typical, yet they felt anything but
She saved me from this rut
Nothing prepared me for what the privilege of being hers would do
Nothing prepared me for you
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Attempts
PoetryA small collection of the excuses I call poetry. I'm not a poet but if you need a light read, here you go
