When all of the words I can possibly write
Rival the stars on
A dark summer's night
How could I know
Which one would mean more
When each one contained
Feelings galore
I could just stay awake
And pull an all-nighter
As I read and I write
And I try to decipher
But I would soon realize
That it does not matter
For the words that mean most
Are not found in chatter
They are found in the actions
That I make every day
From the way that I kiss you
To your name that I say
From the looks that I steal
When you are not looking
To the tastes that I sneak
When you're happily cooking
For you see, as a poet,
I can only express
My feelings for you
When they burst from my chest
And yes there and days
When I can't say those words
But they are still there
Like an escaping bird
Who has run from its cage
But is trapped in a house
It may have fled once
But it will never get out
And I'm sorry for making you
Wait 18 of your years
I know that you've suffered
I know of your tears
But I am here now
And I don't plan on leaving
You are the love of my life
And that, I will keep believing
YOU ARE READING
Beautiful Enough To Frame
PoetryTwo years in the making. Two years of my life put into words. There is nothing more left to say.
