Being yourself has the consequence of there being no excuse.
I’ve torn up a hundred love letters I’ve written for you,
because not one was enough. I’ve called you beautiful,
fair and gorgeous- even compared you
to the moon, but she blushed behind a cloud
because you thought I called you pale.
Name you brilliant, but who isn’t?
Oh-I’m-Not-That-Smart. You are impossible,
like complimenting breathing. Even if I did it well…who cares?
Anyone else can do it,.Then one day I decided not to, and I’m glad I did.
It was the day I decided to live and grow beside you instead.