i'm not a poet, i just see the poem.

I wish you could see her:

dawn, broken into the room,

the pools of sunshine

beginning to collect in the corners.

sleep, still hanging in the air

countless thoughts

unspoken

understood

unable to fathom a way

to fix the world she lives in.

hoping i can at the least

fix the one she dreams in.

little cotton panties,

whisper secrets i shouldn't be hearing

under the cover

of an over-sized shirt.

i can see

the bones of her shoulders,

the swell of her back

curving to the small.

even in such a gown

she looks as elegant

and beautiful as any woman could

wearing the finest dress and minted shoes.

hair as beautiful off the pillow

as it is any other time,

it harvests the sunlight like wool

and burns its glow red

shaming the world with its brilliance.

a sad gaze, a smile

a tear.

tenderly gripped heartbeats to help me face the day

even though the pain is overwhelming,

knowing i have to share this smile,

this embrace,

knowing secrets only someone else should hear:

it is worth bearing.

for all the weight

for all the struggle

there is nothing i can say

there is nothing i can scream

there is nothing i can exclaim

to show the veracity for which i can endure

for the sake of her love.