Write me a poem, be my poet,
Show me the sunrise because I'm tired of the sunset.
If they call me an artist, I'll call you my art,
I can't give you much but I've given you my heart.
And maybe you're unaware but in your sea I've sunken deep,
My dreams scare me, but nowadays you sing me to sleep.
And sometimes I weep, because I feel an ache,
But I bear it all, just for your sake.
And this love will always be a secret locked in a jar,
Because broken butterflies are used to their scars.
~*~