You’re so God damn beautiful, I cry, before I begin to write.
You were always my dark cloud that let me stare at the sun.
And i strum my fingers gently across your skin, like I was playing the slowest love song in the world and only you and I could hear it.
I want to fight over little things with you.
I loved you before you were cool.
You are different.
You’re not the same.
Something about you stands out.
Something about you shines in the dusk.
And then my soul saw you and it kind of went “Oh there you are. I’ve been looking for you."
Making love was never about you and me in a bed.
We made love whenever we held hands.
I thought I’d found my favourite picture of me.
Then I realised it was just because you were in it, too.
I let the clock face the mirror so that each second takes me closer towards you.
Instead of further away.
The world will tell you that the way you say things is more important than what you say.
The world is wrong.
I would find you down the line with broken wings, pick you up, and swear that you would taste the sky again
the world isn’t a dream and you and I really are happening at the same time, even if it’s not in the same place.
That this is real. You’re really there. I’m really here. We’re real.
This is real.
thank you for giving me the words i couldn't say.
