you can be who you are, but learn to see the rest-
you talk about the rain like it gave you salvation, but have you ever even heard the quiet sound of wind blowing through the pines? you talk about the sea like it swept you away to never return, but have you ever laid back in a freshwater pond, allowing all noise to flow through the water instead of your ears? you speak of the sun like it had given you birth, like you had never known light until you were blinded as an infant, but have you ever basked in the subtle glow of the moon, and felt the warmth it gives just by being draped on your skin? you speak of the past like it was the only cradle to your memory, but what of the future and the possibilities you have let to learn? you speak of her as if she was still here, looking at you like you are the only piece of art in every museum, but what of me, the girl before you now who does more than fall at her knees and weep at just one sight of you? what of her? what of me?