This has been my favorite poem since 9th grade (Other than "Said the Shotgun to the Head). It's called "These Things Are How You Make Me Feel" and it is by Anis Mojgani. I first heard it at a charity concert where he performed some of his poetry.

A nuclear reactor power plant that harnesses not any strange harmful energy,
But rather the energy of the sun. Of daisies. Of golden marbles.
Filled up past the brim. Behind me, there is a rainbow.
The nuclear reactor that I am harnesses the power of the rainbow.
Capturing a whole spectrum of colour and light.

This is how she makes me feel.
Like a great, grey, stone tall tower rising up out of the ocean.
From my room at the top of that tower I watch the world.
There is nothing but ocean for so far.
From up here, the ocean looks like it is the biggest thing in the universe.
From up here, it is the universe.

From my window, sitting atop the top of the universe,
Watching its waves of water move in unison together,
I feel like maybe I am bigger.

This is how she makes me feel.

Like I was seventeen, running in slow motion through a field lit with light.
Particles of dust moving through the air, the sun burning their bodies.
Perhaps it is dust. Perhaps it is magic dust.
Perhaps this magical dust is what I am made from.
I open my eyes and everything I see floats.
I am on a boat. It is night.
The world has calmed itself just to hold me inside all that is dark,
Just to rock me gently.

This is how she makes me feel.

The subway chambers of Moscow. I am vaulted.
I have giant chandeliers hanging from my underground ceilings.
I glow with so much light. I am a ballroom for the trains of Russia.
If you happen to be a child that has climbed down my steps to yell into my body,
Those echoes will bounce their way across those vaulted underground ceilings.
This happens all the time.
My dark tunnels are filled with these sounds.

This is how she makes me feel.

Like I will live forever. Like there is nothing that can possibly harm me.
Like this body will somehow stay so young, so perfect.
There are cities growing inside my chest.
The cities all look like New York in the fifties.
Every building is tall enough to touch a cloud.
Every automobile is a convertible.
All the men wear hats and neckties.
The women all have beautiful shapes of colour upon them.

Someone has saved a baby. There is a parade.
Someone has saved every baby – there is the biggest parade moving through my streets.
The sky explodes with ticker tape, strangers kiss on every corner.
Their kisses are what make me live forever.

This is how she makes me feel.

Like honey and trombones. Like honey and trombones.