Thinking... Poem by Dustin Bradley

Just the other night, as I layed in my bed,
and thought of the beauitiful things she has said,
of places she's seen, and books she had read,
and all of the interesting lives she had led;
I wanted to tell her, but can't out of fear,
all the things I'm to shy to say when she's near;
not the sad stories, but the things that make me,
and the person inside that no one else see's,
of the conflict inside that never let's be,
and the love that's inside that needs to be free;
I know, I decided, I'll write her a poem,
with the words and descriptions that no one else owns;
so I picked up a pencil, and I started to write,
about my angels and demons that always seem right,
or the demise of my hope that's never in sight,
and my respect for the day, and my love for the night;
So much anger and saddness in this world made of lies,
but I never can see that when I look in her eyes;

-The love for a stranger is always unwise...