Poetry, yeah.

I love how the wind feels so peaceful on a sunny day, when there's nothing to worry about.

I love the feeling of being completely free, and being blessed with freedom.

I love how your fingers are tall and slender, and just how I like them. Shaped like nature spent extra time to shape them maybe.

I love how your smile is a curve similar to a sun while it's setting or rising. It's just as beautiful too. Makes me warm too at the same time, isn't that funny?

And I love how everything makes me feel like a poet. Like I could write a book. Make your heart melt, maybe, make you imagine all my words in your head.

I love how you can pretend to be angry, and do such a good job at keeping it up. It's like you should be in the movies.

I love how you have these childish mood swings. Maybe it's because you are like a child after all. It's such an animal-like behavior, it's cute.

I hate how losing games is so harsh to both of us. It's like too much pride for both our shoulders to carry, but the game is so cruel. It must be played. I love how realizing it is relieving. I now feel certain that it's me flying this plane we're on. I'm the pilot, in charge. Just how I like it. And deep down inside how you like it too. How you've always liked it. It's a shame, but it's poetic justice that it's all so visible to me. You should just bask in the fact that you get to kick your feet up, and enjoy the ride.

It's funny, that my mind and my heart is a train wreck. My head refuses to ponder, or to play any silly games anymore. It's had enough it seems, and so has my other popular organ. Yes, that'd be my heart, I can use it in context, as an entity, when I feel like being poetic and maybe a little frivolous.

A poet.

Right?

I hold in my hands, all the lights, all the suns, all the flowers, all the trees, all the grass, and all the leaves. All the colors, all the stars, all the fairies, and all the ink.

To write history.