Welcome to my world...

Well, since this is the first post, I suppose it should be about me. Too bad there isn't really much to say.
I'm female and seventeen, the creative and depressed type who prefers to dress in all black and sneakers and who would die rather than wear pink, high heels or makeup. Of course, this world being ruled by the evil beings known as Pu's - Parental Units - I've been forced to do such unspeakable things several times. But it won't happen again. I swear.
I'm kind of scruffy, I guess. I bathe and everything but I don't like brush my hair or make my bed or any of those pointless things. Left to me I'd just go ras and done. But the Pu's disagree. Second point of conflict.
I like animals. I've got three dogs. I listen to rock and write poetry.
This poem was written a few days ago for Varune, who will turn twenty-eight this month, bless his heart. I hope you're happy, my friend, and I hope you will always be happy no matter where you go.

TWENTY-EIGHT
You are not beautiful.
It is a truth accepted by all in your acquaintance,
Including yourself.
You have no silken hair of gold or eyes of the bluest sky
Or skin that is satin to the touch
And you do not speak in measured, dulcet tones.

You, my friend, are far removed from beauty.

You are rough hands and dark skin,
A scarred face and an obscure sense of humour.
You are a lopsided grin and tucked-in shirts,
And the scent of cologne that follows where you walk.
You move from incomprehensibility to ultimate truth
Without ever distinguishing between the two.

And indeed, you have a beauty all your own.

You may not possess conventional attributes –
Money, power, astonishing good looks –
Yet thoughtlessly you drew me to you,
Captivating me so I can never escape.
Now I brood daily on your perfection,
Your imperfections.
I love them all equally.

I am trapped in your web, bound within your spell,
And I may never escape these chains that hold me,
And the part of me that whispers your name in the night
Is content to be held captive.
Yet at the same time I yearn to be free of your ghost,
The vision of you which haunts my dreams
With fleeting touches and stolen kisses,
Imagined issues of your world
I can never share.

For love is worth nothing
When it is not returned.

Twenty-eight years into your life
I kneel before you and swear to love you
As long as we both shall live
In a mockery of a vow we both shall never make,
Not to each other.
How sweetly you smile for her,
How raptly you listen to her pronouncements,
Though they be not as wise as my own.
Wisdom is but a source of sorrow.

I look into your eyes and drown,
And as I deny Mnemosyne my memories
I know I have found the place I must be.
Yes, I am content to die for you though you request it not,
I am in bliss to watch you walk,
Absorb like gospel the words which tumble hurriedly from your lips
And love the things you love
Simply because you love them.
And I willingly drown my heart
In the swift river of this love,
A love that can never age, nor die, nor corrupt,
But which instead becomes more beautiful as the years wear on.

Beauty is, after all, in the eye of the beholder.