hope is fragile, hearts are fertile: love is fleeting

I am afraid to write my heart

because I know what it must look like

to suspecting minds of love-suckers

who forget that love can be right.

I keep it deep inside my mind

locked tight under barbs and beams

because describing it leaves me so starry-eyed

that cliches are unavoidable, it seems.

now, I know well this is a safe place

and my fingers itch to tell their tale

so I'll give you a snippet of the big picture

before my warm heart goes stale.

he is magic and kindness I cannot believe

I was blind to the depth of one's heart

but he gives simply and loves limitlessly

and that shows in his every part.

I have come to know that most men are pigs

I'd given up on the good

but I'm terrified now because again I believe

and time again I've sworn I never would.

I've put trust in the good ones before

they keep it for a rainy day

even they only come back when they're bored

why would he act another way?

but I cannot help but love this boy.

in him I see only pure gold.

remind me after we crash and burn

that even the good ones will always get old.