I trace the lines of your cheeks,
Your skin is rough.
It's worn from the bad weather outside and to me that's just fine.
I'll love no one else as much as you,
What a staement to make,
I only hope it to be true.
Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741