Love is You

You know,

I love you.

And I really mean that.

I don't know what love is,

but if I had to define it right now,

right this instant, this moment,

I'd define it as you.

And I'm sorry if that's corny,

but you're the brick wall

I swore I'd hit

when I found love.

And I'm sorry if that's corny too,

but you have me

head over heels,

going crazy for you.

And I never ever,

ever,

want this feeling

      to go away.

I wish I could say this all to you,

I wish I could tell you just how I feel,

but every time I try,

it comes out something along the lines of:

      fnuiosbnfgiopjmnkmpkw.

And I'm sorry,

that I can't express myself in words,

but I express myself better

with a pen and paper.

So here it goes:

I want you're arms wrapped around me

like the stripes of a barber shop pole.

I want you to hug me,

to hold me,

to pull me close,

until I fit you like a key in a lock,

or perhaps like a hand in a glove.

If I liked jelly,

I'd say you're the jelly to my peanut butter.

But,

I don't like jelly.

So instead,

you're the strings on my guitar.

Creating music for me,

floating in the air, and so far,

helping me to grow, to live, to learn to be.

And each time I look at you,

each time I look into your eyes,

it's like looking into a treasure chest of secrets,

it's like holding in my hands,

the meaning of life,

the secret no one has yet discovered the key to:

happiness.

And I'm sorry if that's corny.

But I'm a bit of a closet romantic,

and though I hide it,

and I own nothing but a heart of iron,

hardened and petrified by years,

years of abandonment and betrayal,

you've unlocked it,

somehow,

someway,

something no one had accomplished in years.

And you hold my bare,

throbbing heart in your gentle hands,

caressing it, loving it,

and slowly,

ever so slowly,

I'm learning that maybe,

just maybe,

there's still love in me to share.

And I never want that to change;

I want you to hold my heart for as long as you can,

because though it may sometimes burn like an ember,

or sometimes numb your fingers from cold,

I want you to have it,

to hold it,

and to share it with me.

For as long as you can.

Because I don't know

what love is.

But to me,

I'd say,

it's you.