Maybe this, maybe we were meant to meet
Leaves me wondering if I’m on her mind
As she’s on mine constantly.
I find myself reminiscing and thinking
Seeing and reliving moments
Recalling the details in all our conversations.
Love is, maybe, one who cherishes every occasion
And not of negligence.
Past Definitions of what love is to me has changed since
Through various instances.
I found meaning, a reason for living.
Through her I perceived loving someone
Is knowing all about them.
Putting what makes all them
In your mind and in your heart
And never forgetting.
Love is “Becoming one”
With an individual.
This individual an inspiration
To me. I told her this already.
If she happens to read this or
Hear of this through the grapevine…
She’d know this poem was about her.
When I speak, I speak strongly.
This is the one thing you will find
About me if you haven’t found it through
These words I’m reading to you, already.
This I’m sure.