Not With You Beside Me...

Poetry is hard. I would say anyone can tell you that, but there's a chance there's someone out there who can pour poetry out of their minds as easily as a person can pour orange juice into a glass. I'm not one of those people.
Sometimes, however, the muse decides to dance her way down from whereever she's hiding and present herself to me. An instant later, the poem is flowing from my typing hands as quickly as water does down a clear river (I don't know why I keep coming up with this imagery). There are the poems which I write...then leave. Curiously enough, they then turn out to be my proudest works. I'm not saying I'm extremely happy with the poem I've put in this post, but it comes very close. Admittedly, it's not a work of pure art and genuis, dear God no. But it's something that comes from the heart and fits what I felt at that moment so well, which is why I'm not so concerned about it's structure or rhythm.
I think I was having a bit of a tough time, and Tom eased me through it, giving me that extra bit of hope that I needed to lighten up my situation. Later, this poem came to mind:

I look into your eyes,
and i see my face inside.
I feel the warmth within,
the border becoming thin.

when I feel your arms around me,
I just know you feel the same.
The cold I felt around me,
thus no longer threatened to maime:
not with you beside me.

When I feel your gentle caress,
It sends shivers down my spine.
You've made me such a mess.
I know I'll never cross the line:
Now with you beside me.

When you first passed by my eyes,
I thought life would never be the same.
You've softened my cries,
I'll never suffer pain:
Not with you beside me.

No...not with you beside me.

© *exact date not remembered, though original work kept* 2005 (F.Grillo)