Even...

a poem.


Even though he wears some clothes too big,
Even though he's not drop-dead gorgeous,
Even when he gets splotchy from allergies,
Even when sickness leaves him pale and lethargic,
Even if he gets a funky hairdo,
Even if he gets a scar,
he's still handsome.


Even though his hands and feet are big,
Even though he smiles wider than anyone,
Even when he wears sweatpants and a hoodie,
Even when he doesn't shake his head at my silliness,
Even if his facial hair attempts to escape him,
Even if he decides to change his fashion,
isn't he still handsome?


Even though he might not be the first one I wanted,
Even though the road ahead has some bumps,
Even when I am left speechless,
Even when I question everything,
Even if other girls surround him,
Even if I spend my days crazy over him,
he's still handsome.
Because he's my handsome.

It's In The Little Things

It's in the little things he does.
I don't know if he even realizes it.
How much one little deed can mean so much.
To be told Good Morning in the dawn,
Good Night just before I retire,
Is to be reminded that I am loved.
When he strokes my hair,
pushing it tenderly behind my ear,
it tells me he cares.
When he kisses my nose
it tells me I am cherished.
The way he says my name,
reminds me who I am.
The way he knows what I want,
without my saying,
is a phenomena so stunning to me.
Who is this lover of mine?
This complete mystery?
I look into his eyes and see the green of the sea,
intelligence, and adoration.
He holds the door for me,
lets me lead,
meanwhile watching the path ahead
to protect me from harm.
The way he takes my hand
just when I want him to,
the fit so perfect to astound one,
I have to sigh with delight.
I never thought I would find one like him.
Who would know just what to do,
yet in his youth never done it before?
Who would know to please me,
without question from either side?
A stranger to walk into my life,
then over time realizing
we would not do without.
Oh to know him fully,
to understand not just his mind and heart but soul,
such is my heart's desire.
Is he the one I've been waiting for?
Oh if only I could see.
But that which makes me question this,
and hope it is so,
That which makes me wonder,
what makes me ponder upon his affection,
and desire him more,
That which gives me pause,
and makes me stay by his side,
is all in the little things.

Love and War

They say all's fair in love and war.
They're wrong.


War is not fair. War is a horrible thing.
To fight over differences, territory, disputes,
to think you are better than the other,
is wrong.
To try to get on top,
to conquer, to destroy,
is wrong.
When siblings fight they retaliate.
One thing after the other.
Until a parent stops it.
To hold a grudge, to stay angry,
to try to prove yourself the greatest,
is wrong.
War must only happen to keep those
who desire you dead
from killing you.
War must be in self defense.
Never start a war.
Always finish it.
Because war is not fair.


They say all's fair in love and war.
They're wrong.


Love is not fair. Love is wonderful thing.
To give your heart, your all to someone,
To put someone other than yourself first,
that is love.
To put aside differences,
to put away your push for survival to help others,
that is love.
And it is not fair.
There is corruption in the world.
No one deserves to be loved.
Especially in war.
To say You Are Loved,
to hold out your hand
to those who just tried to hurt you,
that is not fair.
Fair would be to return the favor.
Fair would be to hurt them back.
That's why war starts.
Because fair is twisted up in our minds.
Eye for eye.
Give what you are given.
That is fair. Or is it?


They say all's fair in love and war.
They're wrong.


War is not fair.
Back and forth, on and on it goes.
Don't fight. Don't start a fight.
Don't try to prove yourself,
your own agenda,
your own idea of fair.


Love is not fair.
To give grace and mercy
to those trying to fight you,
who do not deserve retribution,
to go beyond fair,
that is love.


They say all's fair in love and war.
They're wrong.


Fair is in the middle.
On one side is war.
Grown from hate and selfishness.
On the other side is love.
Out of choice and above fair.
We try to live in a world of fair.
To fit inside boxes of trade.
But there is war and there is love.
And this world is not fair.
And this life is not fair.


So we have a choice.
Where do we make it fair?
Or is fair simply an illusion?
Brought on to keep us from fighting?
Or to keep us from loving?
Fair is to keep us from giving too much of anything.
But sometimes we must fight.
Just remember never start the war.
Only finish it.
Always we must love.
So stand above fair.
And look to the Cross.
The Lover of Souls died not to make life fair,
But to end the War.
To fulfill Love.
Those who wanted war,
instead received forgiving Love.
It was not fair.
They did not deserve it.
We do not deserve it.
I do not deserve it.
But still I stand above fair.
Because I say with certainty:


I am loved.