You.

You, with all your Darcy charm
And your irrefutable, toothy grin;
You, with your love for Animal Farm
And your beautifully nostalgic bayblade collection;
You, with your black, thick hair
That I want to run my hands through;
You, with your vein-protruding arms
That I want to trace my fingers through;
You, with your long midnight rants
And your 3 AM heartfelt confessions;
You, with your stupid vegetarianism
And your white tee obsession.
You, with your favourite poetic stories
And your star-gazing bike ride adventures.
You, with your quotable quotes wallpaper
And your inspiring dead-end humour
You, with your every word,
Your every smile, your every soul-bearing
You, with your morning coffee and evening tea
You make me love you, you know?
You, with your awfully cold demeanor;
You make me fall every day.
You, with your cheesy bits,
And your selfish sacrifices;
You with your random love- professing
You shatter my heart everyday.

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About TheBlackWallflower

I'm just your average unique person. I love to read and write (no surprises there, eh?) and think a lot. I adore Rowling and think Harry Potter should be a religion. I also hate pink. I love fluff generally because it makes me feel intelligent and I love poetry because it makes me feel different. (yes, references.) I'm married to Sirius Black. So I sign myself as The Bitch alarmingly often. Oh, and I love Mr. Darcy. And Jo Longo. And Chandler Bing. And Sherlock. (Yes, I'm a fantard.) And in case you want to drop in a good, or a critical word, feel free to email me: theblackwallflower@gmail.com OR, follow me on Twitter: @WallflowerBlack Enough with the babble. OkBye. View all posts by TheBlackWallflower

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