She sheds her naked worries to the light, “Why would you choose me? I can’t even write Like the poems you craft or the letters you hide". Yet her eyes hold my thoughts, endless as they blend. I whisper, “You’re kind, allowing me to be yours, But I wonder how one can be so blind to the shores. when has ever a fish questioned its swimming when has a flower known to be ugly when has ever a human written poetry except the poem wrote her own melody." my throat begs me to scream darling you are the poem, radiant with your smile, Impatience flickers, teasing all the while. My world sways with each breath that you take , It contracts and expands, then shatters and wakes. Words worthy of a poet keep me awake How can I ease her doubts while lost in her gaze? She is writing herself with every phrase.