If this can be called poetry,

I consider it to be that,

Then I’d be willing to sit in any number of smokey cafes,

Reading from my lined notebook paper,

Saying those words I so desperately wanted to say to you.

You haven’t seen most of my feelings,

I bet you can only assume some of them,

But I promise that evey time i look in those deep, endless blue eyes,

I see everything I want.

You are perfect, from your head to your toes to the very essence of your breath.
If this can be called poetry,

I hope it can someday,

I’d love to read it to you.

I’d love for every word to reach you so you know,

I will love you till I die

And nothing can change that.