Young Love

Dear Cynthia,

I dazed into your eyes for the first time, and became so lost.

Though, never wanting to be found.

Your perfections ignite a flame, too big for your insecurities to burn out.

The roots of our love, create the last two standing trees in a forest.

Three simple words, with an intense meaning.

Those words, are those that tremble amongst a tounge,

only anxious to be released to the ears of an

anticipated heart.

My heart, for which you hold the key to.

Only you make me feel that I am special,

my smile speaks for my heart.

                         -Boen Geary

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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