I would write you,
one hundred pretty poems,
to ease your worried mind,
but no amount,
of scatter words,
or curious syllables,
could ever illustrate,
these shaking fingertips,
or the feeling of a,
newly healed heart,
once again,
racing vigorously.
I could write you,
one hundred pretty poems,
to ease your inquisitive heart,
but no amount,
of pretentious similes,
or wondrous metaphors,
could ever emphasize,
the comfort of your arms,
or the feeling of a,
genuine laugh,
from a once,
broken smile.
I could say it a million times,
but I don’t know if you’ll believe me,
I love you,
I love you,
I love you.
