#love peoms

I love the way you look.

I love the way you look when your laying next to me.

You have a look of content, your breathing is more calm and you have a soft smile that lingers on your lips.

I love the way you look when you’re driving.

Your demeanor changes to a more concentrated state, but your eyes will wonder to catch a glance of me laughing at something I’ve read, your hand will find its way to my thigh and trace designs.

I love the way you look when you wake up.

Your features hold a child like innocence to them, as you rub your eye your other hand lazily finds my body and pulls it just slightly closer.

I love the way you look when you talk about me.

Your eyes crinkle slightly as your smile widens, you talk about something we did last week, you slowly move closer to me, wrapping your arms around my smaller frame, you look down at me as you finish the story, and that’s the look I love the most.

I love they way you look at me.

I love seeing the emotions you hold for me I’m your soul, I know when you look at me all that you care about is that I’m looking back because I feel the same way, and every time it takes my breath away.

When I look at you I see every star in the universe in your eyes.

The marks on your skin remind me of the galaxies.

Your smile reminds me of the moon, how even in the darkest of times, I still, will always have you.

Sometimes I think my life was only made by you

“You like to fix people. Its what you’re good at.” He says this with honesty twisted into every syllable.

I feel my insides tie into a knot of confusion and anger, “if I’m so damn good at fixing things why am I still broken? Why can’t I figure out why I’m always so fucking sad. Why I can’t even go out in public without my chest tightening up. Every time so one even breathes on me, I feel my skin crawl and set a blaze. I can’t ever be with someone because all I imagine is the fact I couldn’t even trust my best friend because he stole my innocence how the hell am I supposed to trust someone I’ve only known for a few months. I suck at fixing things. Something broken can’t fix anything!” I scream the last part as if I’m talking to the void that consumes me.

He grabs my hand and makes me look at him, “that’s the problem, you can’t fix something that isn’t broken.”

Maybe I am okay

A Love Poem.

Let me be your darling.

My heart yearns to hold

Yet I face each day alone,

From rise til fall,

Each night grows,

My love comparable.

So, if I may ask,

Your hand in mine,

Let me be your darling,

And you’ll equate my love.

When you are attracted to people, it’s because of the details. Their kindness. Their eyes. The fact that they can get you to laugh when you need it the most.

jodi picoult, sing you home