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Thanks to someone at my new school in Oregon, I've regained my artistic drive and have been thus writing again. Kiff, Lindsay, this will make you very happy as I'm also getting back into writing my stories.
This one was meant to be secretive, but I guess any secret admirer can use it to let that special, unknowing person know there's someone out there... watching... yeah.

What If...

What if I could tell you everything?
What if I could open up?
What if I could spill my soul
Like a tilted, unbalanced cup?

What if you knew how I felt?
What if you knew that much?
What if you knew I'd do anything?
What if that's too much?

What if I said nothing
And kept it to myself?
What if you knew everything
But only set it on the shelf?

What if you and I were something
More that what we are right now?
What if I said I'd do it
If you would tell me how?

What if I said goodnight to you
And saw you in the morn?
What if I thought this moment
Was a beautiful beginning born?

What if you knew my identity?
You know I'd never tell.
What if you knew how close I was
While caught under your spell?

What if I was with you
As night turned into day?
What do you think you'd say to that?
What do you think you'd say?

This next one I wrote over the Thanksgiving Break, a love poem, this one is. I was asked to have it be about a white rose, so I did the best I could.

The White Rose

Spurred by inspiration no greater than curiosity,
I left the beaten path to strike one of my own.
The damp and dreary concrete held no grasp on me
And I wanted to see what Mother Nature had sewn.

Deep into the forest I hiked 'til I came to a sunlit clearing.
Inside was set a garden of sorts, yet wild and untame.
No path nor road led from that place, nor twigs seen to be disturbed.
So I decided this beauty was in fact Mother Nature's blame.

A cluster of roses called to me with their seductive red colour.
Yet I held no lust in my heart for their alluring show.
I began to turn away from the beckoning screeches and cries
Til something clearly pierced the red; something vibrant like snow.

Amidst tangles of thorny green stems and leaves
Stood a white rose of defiant grace and strength.
Repelled, it seemed, were the reds that all looked alike
So that I might better gaze in awe for a length.

I dared not touch its silky white petals for fear of causing it wilt,
Nor could I take my eyes away from its delicate presence.
The morning dew clung to it like tear drops to a cheek.
And with the loss of my own will, I stood there, basking in its essence.

I left it there and continued on in hopes of coming back.
So was my folly for loving such a thing.
I returned to the spot late after noon and was brought upon by horror.
The stem of my white rose was cut and taken as another man's thing.

I kneel in that space every day, and wonder if I should have taken.
Was I destined to never see it again? Was it only for this one time?
The reds continue to call to me like an undying broken record.
But I know there's only one place in my garden; my heart; my soul that can be called hers and mine.

So yeah, that's that. More is on the way. I garuntee it.