I am not good at poetry
but for her I will write.
I will listen to her while she talks
about everything that has happened in her life.
I watch her as she turns,
I wait for her eyes.
That birthmark reminds me,
of everything special and unique in her
has just come into my life.
I am so fucking scared,
if that book was the beginning of her love;
I might not survive it’s full force.
But I hope I am strong enough,
cause I know it’s worth that small plight.