Love, they said, burns youand builds you.But with you, there’s no ash.Just light.

I couldn’t have dreamed you into existence because I didn’t even know I needed you. You must have been sent to me.

Like a child who saves their favourite food on the plate for last, I try to save all thoughts of you for the end of the day so I can dream with the taste of you on my tongue.

Does God knowthe number of kissesbefore we fall in love?Yesterday, I was nobodyand I believed myself important.Today,I feel my worth in you.You, with your emerald eyes and ebony hair,even your heartbeat is beautiful.You, who is my greatest joy,all other concerns vanish in your presence.You swallow timeand consume space,inspiring all my passionwith a single embrace.I love your existence.

For me,you are fresh waterthat falls from treeswhen it has stopped raining. For me, you are cinnamon that lingers on the tongue and givesbitter wordssweetening.For me, you are the scent of violins and visionof valleys smiling.And still,for me, your loveliness never ends.It traverses the worldand finds its way back to me.Only me.

I wonderif you ever read my poemsand wish they were writtenfor you.

I only wrote prose before I met you. My musings were superfluous and serious as well. But now the words dance with me. I sing with them and we create poetry.

Before you, nothing.Now you, and everything

I left the bankbecause they wouldn’t deposit my cheque of poems.So I went to the store,but they didn’t acceptmy currency of words.So I boxed all my storiesand took them to charity.But they refused my donation and asked me to give blood instead.I opened the notebooks and made them look, 'What do you think I wrote these in?