why do I feel he reads
these secret pages
of my mind sometimes
I may not say it aloud
but I feel his presence
leaving a trace once in a while
I think I'm just too
intoxicated in his love
to see him everywhere
with each passing day
he's growing on me
I'm not sure if he is aware
although I know that the moon
of my earth won't go anywhere
but once broken, usually fragile
my little heart is always scared
bad poetry, poor rhymes, I've become
a hopeless romantic, please bear
