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.