Wallflower Words.

I could write for hours on end,
Of all the things I wish you’d see,
But then I have to remind myself,
People are not poetry.

I could cry for all your grief,
And explore your shrouded world.
For if I could ,
I’d hold you tight
And try to soothe your soul.
But you smile so bright
Even when you’re hurt.
Just like a shower of pixie dust.
Turning my coldest winters
Into sparks of gold.

I could write you a poem,
Strung with words from my heart.
But no poetry is as beautiful
That dare compare to the work of art
Who glides through my dreams each night,
Sundering every cloud of fear apart.

But people are not poetry,
Especially not when they’re you.
Because mere words could never suffice,
The beautiful disaster that is you.

 A moveable feast-  E. Hemingway