Without Faith

Old Writing Never Loses Truth

Though her name I rarely say,
It runs through my mind day after day.
She is an imperfect perfection
And I a young boy with pale complexion.
She holds my heart with an iron grasp,
For she fears my love will pass.
She may never know but my love will never go,
Why she's too perfect for me to ever let go.
I have tried to let her know that I'm far from perfect
She just laughs and says that she's always known and has heard it.
I Sometimes question her sanity in choosing me,
When I know inside it wasn't a decision but a plea.
See, she came to me, not I to her,
She came talking of life and love.
And I sat content with my anger and being near something so pure as a dove.
She made me think of times come and gone
And I told her she was great for caring.
I never really meant to get in this deep,
But now that I'm here, the thought of anywhere else isn't worth bearing.
She is my forever, my ribs and my heart.
She keeps me sane when all I want to do is fall apart.
She is beautiful and though she may not know it, I do so believe it.
And I do plan on finding more ways to show it.