some kind of mistaken poetry: something to believe in

Through th fire of anger
I found you
and there were love
for me to take

Through the emptiness of
one cold and dark winter
I found you
and there you were
just to be found

Through the darkness
of lonely nights
and desireless days
I found you
and
-it was meant to be-
you remained waiting for me
and awaiting me

Through my broken english
I wrote this -kind of-
mistaken poetry

and that was the best way
to fry a tortilla
in the new pan

Love u