If this were a love poem,
I could compare your beauty to the sky,
The ocean to your mind,
I could be blatantly open,
If this were a love poem.

But this is not,
Though still I say,
That I have never seen a broken thing
move in such a graceful way,
Nor have I seen a shattered thing look
quite so complete,
Or beautiful,
If allowed of me,
To think and say such a truthful thing.

But to you I shall not be so open,
After all,
This is not a love poem.

My thoughts are arranged in the form
of the stars,
They burst in my head and then fall apart,
Oh how they fear such terrible heights,
but they fall unto you on such a beautiful night,
and to compare you to the moonlight,
you, my dear,
are the greater sight.

It is my pleasure to say such flattering things but I really must not be so open.
For this is not a love poem.

Because if this were a love poem,
Then you would love me too,
And I would have said all the thoughts
I've been thinking of you.