When dewdrops on leaves
light up like fireflies beneath our feet,
and shooting stars sparkle in the sky
when we meet.

another possible love poem, maybe?

you crack me up the way
the december wind outside my
bedroom window does.

and then i bleed.

no, i am not hurting.
i am savouring every moment of
what is going to be the last time
that you will be mine.

i am writing it all down
in my head, somewhere,
only to write
and scribble on plain white
papers and
make rhymes
to compliment
the melody that you have put in my life.