A cheesy poem

 You say you can't write poems about love

About happiness, devoid of hurt
but is it really that you cannot
or that they never hit you hard enough.
You've never written about starry skies
but so many with watery eyes
Always with a pen in the lows
and never once so in the highs.
It was never something you could not feel
but writing it down would make it real.
Maybe that would shield you for good
But the end always hit as hard as it should.
So you never wrote about your smiles
In your theatre of memories, those blissful aisles
but everytime you bled and shed
you scribbled and went on for miles and miles.
And though it begins so cliche with all these rhymes
And will only get cheesier with the following lines
I hope we're both patient with this one
because today I wish to write about good times.



Today all I did was exist
and yet he looked at me like I won a nobel prize
Today all I did was something dumb
and yet he talked to me like I was the smartest person he knew
Today I cried at a Surf Excel ad
and yet he told me I was as strong as people come
Today I talked on and on for hours
and yet he listened like he hadn't heard me enough.
I looked at him while he was looking at me
and in his eyes I saw the awe
with which you only look at a unicorn who's living their life in black and white
The awe with which you'd look at the most precious thing in your life
Seen in the eyes of some rom-com star
or a view for which you've traveled far
Something you would long to have
and once you'd have you'd never lose
Something you are glad the world sometimes looks beyond
They wouldn't leave it for you if they could see it from your shoes
And so sure I am its the same look in his eyes
As its the awe with which I look at the mirror on a random day
and know it is how I want to be looked at everyday......

Today I thought I'd write a poem
about everything you make me feel
everything you can express
and everything you do not show
but look, my fingers are numb at last
and I ran out of words too fast
While all I did was write about how you look at me
even that, a quarter I could barely get past.
May be I am bad at writing about good things
or may be I am trying too hard
because poems in notepads are written about people you can't send cheesy texts to
but my dear,
the poetic way I feel about you,
every goodnight text is a ballad.