when whisperedwhat an exquisitesong, it makes-your name.
love was never meant to bejust a metaphorbetween the pages of poetry.
sometimes i am not sure.if i am writing the poemor the poemis writing me.
i immersemyselfin youlikei immerse myselfinto a beautiful story.
How….will I ever truly depict you?You’re perfect, my writing isn’t.
the mostbeautiful tideis the sweepof your heartagainst mine.
If my life were a fragrance, it would smell like the sea.
when i speak to youi speak as thoughi am offering a rosein your hand.
lean in to kiss mein all the placeswhere the acheis the most special.
I blink January’s lashesand gush down December’s cheeks
i have laughedmore than daffodilsand cried more than June.
i would rather havefeelings without wordsthan words without feelings.
I had embraced you…long before i hugged you.
Breezy daysdeserve the unionof two old friends.
May youalways haveopenbreezy spacesin your mind.
i writebecauseit is the only wayi can reach you.
Poems can getsleepless tooand becomethe loneliest thingin the universe.
when i write of you, my deari am holding youin the most exquisiteways.
leave me a smilejust warm enough…to spend a milliongolden afternoons in.
Live as many lives as you can.
A poem in the heart is worthmore than a million dollarsin the bank account.
i am alwaysstalking you, my dear. with my thoughtsmy words.my breath.
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