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.

And I guess I’ll have to live with that.

She’s real.
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.
—  A poem about her