Come here darling,
you have my hand to hold.
You'll have to tell some stories
that were never told.
Why shall you wonder
about your immaterial looks?
Eyes and lips you wear
are the eternal kind written in books.
Come here, darling.
Myself, for you, I have sold.
If your roses start thorning,
you have my hand to hold.
If you need a shoulder,
if ever you are cold,
if you have places to wander,
you have my hand to hold.
So darling, come here,
let's read some Robert Frost,
spend life together dauntlessly,
it matters not the cost.
If ever I lose you,
then I'll have myself lost.
YOU ARE READING
Obsession
Poetry"How do you know if you're in love with someone?" he asked. I answered, "If you write a whole book about them."
