Reading You

As I haven't updated this for a while I thought I'd treat you all to a second poem today. It's like some kind of awful two for one deal, you don't really want two but you can't help but take the second. You know you probably won't enjoy it or even use it but what would be the point of leaving it behind?

So moving on, here is the poem. I think it's pretty self explanatory... I really must try to be more vague and pretentious in my writing.

Reading you

One day you’re face and thoughts will be open to me.

I’ll barely need that one little flicker to know what you want.

Not what you want, but what you need,

what you may not even realise yourself,

but I’ll know.

One day I’ll read you

like my favourite book
the one I’ve read over and over again
the one I know word for word
but still come back to.

One day we won’t speak.

Just for one day.
We won’t need to verbalise.
We’ll know what we want and
know what we need and
we will act without words.

I can’t read you yet.

I try and I try,
but I don’t think you’re ready
to be read.
I forgive you,
because I won’t let you read me,
yet.

One day I won’t need to hide.

I won’t be able to
because you’ll know.
You’ll know because you will read me.
You’ll know that I love you
and that will be okay.

Beautiful

I seem to only be able to write love poetry at the moment, I'm getting a little bored of it to be honest! Hopefully I'll manage to get some more interesting things up in the near future.
Again as always, this is a work of fiction. Artistic license blah blah blah. You get the picture.

Beautiful

I want to write a poem for you

because you're beautiful.

I want you to know that

I think you are beautiful.

You'll never hear this poem

because I’m scared,

and you would never

come to hear me read,

or even appreciate the fact

that I think you are beautiful.

Because I know I’m not the first to say it.

I could dissect your beauty

analyse every detail

every quirk and imperfection

that renders you beautiful.

Your curly hair,

that you should have never cut short.

The nervous twitch that makes you blink

although that's hardly there these days.

When I saw you there,

at the crowded bar,

I saw you notice me.

For a second I thought I’d imagined it,

but then you bought a drink for me.

And your kiss was beautiful,

the sly half smile that followed.

You'd planned it,

from the greeting and subtle touches,

and I was happy to oblige.

We left our coats behind

too eager to make our escape.

You did your best to keep me warm

on our walk in the February frost.

That night you were beautiful,

and I felt beautiful

as if your touch induced beauty.

And your words flowed over my body

Like scalding water

burning through me

leaving their mark

their beautiful scarring.

When the sun came up

I slept in your arms,

Wishing I didn't have to wake

and return to the ugly world.