Must be a dream
Has to be a dream...

Hold me near
Take my fear...

It's the butterflies you give me
When you walk by...

As I think of you
I smile to myself...

Poetry is my way to go
It's my rant on paper...

They think she has nerves of steal
Little do they know...

I feel so close to you
But you're so far away...

I don't think you want me
Through you told me you did...

All I need is a blank piece of paper
A pen or pencil...

He's the type of guy
To call me beautiful...

I walk with my head held high
While no one knows...

My love has not dissipated
Nor has it roamed free...