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