Sometimes I am ok knowing that you don’t love me. Sometimes I can look at you and just be happy with your presence. But then there’s the times when I look at you and I feel the ache. I feel the ache of longing, wishing that you were looking back at me. But you never are.
It’s funny. When you leave your home and wander really far, you always think, ‘I want to go home.’ But then you come home, and of course it’s not the same. You can’t live with it, you can’t live away from it. And it seems like from then on there’s always this yearning for some place that doesn’t exist.
She’s so perfect at being imperfect and human,
it makes me want to reach to the sky and pluck out a star,
just for her to hold in her heart.
This star would not outshine her,
for she would outshine it with her beauty.
She would outshine the star with her kindness.
She’s someone you always long to be with.
Someone who actually cares about life and what it’s about.
Who cares about love.