I Write You

In case we don't make it,
you should know the truth.
I've never felt more alive,
than in moments spent with you.
In case we fall again,
and out of love this time,
you should know you brought beauty to every season,
and reason to every rhyme.
Perhaps we'll crash and burn,
yearn for new love and no return.
Maybe we'll learn we're better apart.
Heart fooled and dumbfounded,
sick of a love so grounded.
In case we don't soar,
you can never not know,
You have flowers for a soul,
blooming always, never growing old.
Gold is your story,
your story untold.
Fold me, in your journal of anecdotes,
let me be a page you come back to,
when you need to be reminded,
of the things that had you blinded.
Find it, in moments when you need
to remember our greed.
Read and then close.
Like our love, and the end we chose,
we will fade between the pages,
slowly, surely settling for prose.
In case we don't make it,
You should know the truth,
I've never written poetry and love
the way I write you.