If we don’t make it, if we don’t survive because this teasing and testing, I don’t ever want to hear that you think my words, my poems to you were nothing, or just for attention.
You are my more, not my muse, and though they may never be published or make the most historical impact, they are my hopes, wishes, from me to you.
Forever they will live on, and they will always burn from the purity of my heart’s love for you… they will always burn to consume…
Because you’re truly my best friend… my eyes when I am blind, and protection against the cold…
softly-transcending 