From You To Us

To love is to share life together,

To have the closest bond no one can

Divide them and to build special plans just for two,

To work side by side,

And then smile with pride,

As one by one dreams all come true.

To love is to help and encourage

With smiles and sincere words of praise,

To take time to share,

To listen and care

In tender, affectionate ways.

To love is to have someone special,

One on whom you can always depend

To be there through the years,

Sharing laughter and tears,

As a partner, a lover, a friend.

To love is to make special memories

Of moments you love to recall,

Of all the good things

That sharing life brings.

Love is the greatest of all.

I've learned the full meaning

Of sharing and caring

And having my dreams all come true;

I've learned the full meaning

Of being in love

By being and loving with you.

You fell in love with a poet. 

He says that he's sorry quite a couple of times and you believe him.

When he writes, his words feel like bandages,

Aftershave and the smell of floor cleaners in a hospital. 

When he actually comes home,

He doesn't look like the fancy champagne bottle,

He went out carrying but like the muddy tinted worn off the end of his sleeves.

Maybe, not all poets write the truth. 

Maybe, when he says that he's sorry,

He actually means that in his next short story you might be the villain, 

Maybe when he says he's sorry,

He actually means that in his poem on stars,

You were a meteoroid that hit the earth and destroyed everything else. 

When he says he's sorry, maybe, he doesn't write to you, because he is with you, 

Maybe, he's with you because you give him so much to write about. 

Maybe, not all poets love.

Maybe, when they write about love and sex and how many times they hit it, 

They actually meant how they watched and preyed

And actually fucking hit it because not all poets love. 

When they write about palms and fingers and necks and the back, 

Maybe they mean the hand and the fist and rope

And the whip because not all poets know how to speak. 

You fell in love with a poet and he fell out of it. 

You started writing love poems and made him one. 

You write about love and sex and how many times you kissed his lips 

When you want to actually write about leaving

And lusting and how many times he pulled his lips away from yours,

As if sucking some part of your soul through, you lying possessed.

Because you are becoming a poet. 

And not all poets speak the truth.