My Chey
a poem I wrote him a long time ago
�You�re beautiful,� he tells me.
He is perfect,
a (bad) pic of my Chey
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copyright 2002� Shan, a few rights reserved here and there. And may the luck o' the irish be with you!
�You�re perfect,� I tell him,
�Je t�aime beaucoup mon amour.�
He says, �no, I�m not,� but he is--
Everything I was missing
From before until now.
When his softest hair tickles my ear,
When his compassionate arms
Wrap around my trembling body
At 1:30 on a Tuesday morning.
And everything that I didn�t know
Was missing from my life until he was in it.
I could gently spend ten million more nights
Curled up so tight in his smile--
And his look when I smile
That smile.
He is perfect
When he says he is not.
When he tells me he loves me,
When he tells me I�m beautiful.
