Only Words

Broken pencils and empty notebooks
lie on my bedroom floor.
all alone with no one but themselves
facing the corridor.

crumpled pieces of notebook paper,
lie on my bedroom floor.
wondering how to say these words perfectly.
or if i should give up or add more.

she's my artist and my best friend.
she's all that makes up myself.
but yet she fails to see,
that she is the masterpiece herself.

these little words might just be words,
but they mean more to me than I can do,
so for once in many more to come,
i love you.