I wrote More poems About her Than I can Count. About What loving Her Feels like. About How she Became my Home. About How I Never Want to Lose her. About How beautiful She is, Even though She can’t See it. But somehow, Those words Are never Enough. I’ve spent Hours Trying to find Words That are able To describe Her. Nothing ever Really fits. She’s just So much More Than any Language Could say. And still, I’m writing Poems. Not because Words Are enough. But because Loving her Deserves The attempt.

„You have A girlfriend? So you’re a Lesbian?“ And then They look at me Like I’m crazy When I say that I’m not. Apparently, There’s only Lesbian, Gay, And straight. Bisexuality is a thing, Yes, But it’s ‚Only a phase’. They don’t know How it feels To finally find A label You feel Comfortable Using. And I know It’s hard to Understand That the label I’m using Is the one For not wanting A label Like lesbian Or bisexual. I just Don’t want to Define that Right now. Maybe it’ll change Over time. Maybe I’m a lesbian And just don’t know That yet. Maybe I’ll keep The label I have Right now Because no one else Needs to understand, Just me. It’s my business, Not theirs. If they have A problem With me Using a label For not wanting Any other label, They can Fuck off.

In English, They say “I miss you”. But in French, They say “You’re missing from me”. And I think That’s beautiful. When I tell her That I miss her, I mean That it feels like A part of me Is missing. It’s the part She carries Without even knowing. My heart.

Five days Never were A long time. Just a blink, And they were Over. Funny how Time changes Its meaning. Five days Used to be Nothing. Until They became Five days Without Her. Every hour Stretches itself, Refusing To come to An end. Every minute Lasts Just a bit Longer. Seconds Still pass The same way. They just Feel different. Turns out Forever Isn’t measured In years. Sometimes, It’s only Five days.

Most people think Gods know They’re worshipped. I don’t think They do. Because she still Apologizes For laughing too loud. She still needs reassurance That she is Beautiful. A goddess Would probably Do the same If she forgot Who she was. People think Gods are flawless. That’s not true. They all have Their imperfections. That’s exactly Why I think She belongs Amongst them. She trips Over nothing. Forgets Where she’s put Her keys. Cries Over fictional characters. Gets embarrassed When I stare at her For too long Or call her Cute. I love her Because of The little things That make her Feel Even more Heavenly. The way She automatically Moves closer to me Without realizing. The way Her eyes soften When she looks At me. The way She keeps looking back To make sure I’m still there. She keeps Pointing out Every crack, Every flaw. I keep wondering How someone As divine as Her Can be so convinced That they’re ordinary. She asks Why I look at her The way I do. How do I Explain That I’m looking At something Sacred?