If I were a poet,

I'd probably write about love.

I'd probably write about first isses,

and dates;

sitting together at the park eating KFC

and laughing at the world.

I'd write about the stories,

and the songs,

maybe even the music you would play for me on guitar.

I'd probably write about the butterflies;

although, they seem to be pretty typical.

But I'd also write about how I don't think anyone has a love this unique.

And even, with love, aside from the happiness;

I'd probably write about th sad parts too.

All the tears shed and trouble—

when the phone would click,

and the doors would slam.

I'd probably write about the fights,

and the nit-picking.

The jealousy, even so.

The screaming,

and the contemplating,

The feelings that said I should let go.

Painful;

But, it was love too.

But I'd still write about how I don't think anybody has a love this unique.

So,

If I were a poet,

would you know too?