Sitting in the bright light of the afternoon Maggie wrote quickly across a sheet I notebook paper, her quill, barely leaving the page. She wrote poem after poem after poem, trying to get her mixed up thoughts down on paper. It was usless keepng these feelings bottled up inside, and poetry was Maggie's favourite way of venting.

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Why can't this be?
Love is I not what it is cracked up to be.
I love someone and I get no love in return,
watching them with someone else
makes my blood boil and my stomach churn.

Its never going to happen anyway,
so why should I keep hoping you will stay?
When I tell you how I really feel,
I want you to have a feeling so sureal!

Ive fallen far from where I used to be,
liking other people with all their vanity.

This is unfair how I am saying all this,
wishing for nothing but your love and a first kiss.
loving and liking from afar,
taking in everything about who you are.

I like you so much and I can almost tell,
that you may also like me aswell.
then why is this so complex?
Why cant these feelings just excel?
There is no use in keeping secrets bottles up,
never to tell.
Tell me and I'll tell you,
I promise I will always be true!
Maybe love IS what its cracked up to be.

If only you could see,
that you actually love me...

*****************
When I close my eyes
every night before I go to sleep,
the last person I think of is you.

When I awaken in then morning
to start a new day,
the first person i think of is you.

All thought the day,
you race through my mind.
The simplest of things could remind me of you.

A sentence,
a word,
a single letter,
I remember everthing you say.

A kilometer,
a foot,
an inch,
every measument still seems like too far away.

But this...is fantasy.
In no reality will you actually love me.

Not even if you are the last person I think of before I sleep,
or the first person I think of when wake up.

Dreams and fantasy take place in my mind.
That is the only place I can find you and me,
together,
the way it should be.