Something about your hidden kindness,
Makes up for the brisk cold of the surface of your hands.
You have wild blue eyes,
always willing to tell a story,
Always willing to be the star.
Your wafting brown hair,
Matches the inner whimsical being that comes out when you’re content.
You believe yourself a failure, always needing to do better,
But truly in my heart, there is no one greater.
You have your heart kept in a neat little box,
It has decorations, of blacks and blues
Pretty enough so the outside unawares don’t want to peak in.
I’ve always seen past the colors, to that inner layer,
Where that pulsing violet hue is awaiting.
Something about your tiny little box,
Will always, forever have,
A piece of my heart.