A love poem.
You are the Tiramisu in a world full of Pound-cakes.
They can’t even touch you.
They don’t have the frosting or cream filling like you do.
They are all just Pound-cakes with out the icing.
You are the layers of whipped chocolate and cream filling.
Glitter does no justice to your shine.
You are every bit your word.
I admire you above all.
But sometimes I am left, wading in puddles of tears.
My imperfections run deep.
My perpetual fears about never being able to live up to your laundry list of expectations, becomes an uncontrollable monster.
All I have to offer you is a poem over tea.
In a room filled with my over zealous tea cup collection.
Which I would give up every tea cup I own, just to have a chance with you.
Little pieces of me,
Thrown up for sale on some dusty shelf.
Bought by the coveting eyes.
It’s just a tea cup.
But it meant everything to me.
In the end,
I’d give up everything I own, for you.
One perfect touch.
When it just feels that damn good.
so right and tight.
I would wait an eternity for just one taste of you.
One last kiss.