"Come inside this heart of mine,
feel the beat to the poets rhyme,
words they tumble, spilling pain,
tales of woe or love, again."
Poems about love, good and bad, real and imagined, sometimes beautiful, sometimes dark but always, always, from the...
She would write about love as a fantasy imagined situations heartfelt adorations never fully understanding what it all meant to be caught up in the emotion it was always just a notion. She became absorbed in the observation that she missed the signs during their assignation. The touches, the looks a questioning glance she didn't see what was happening, that this was her chance. She almost walked away from her own love story but thankfully she noticed and the rest is now history. She no longer has to write about love as an observer she now spends every day with someone who loves her.
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