Here I am
scribbling notes again
Chance encounters during errands,
pictures in old cabinets
sometimes the past feels
too close
Do you ever wish
she was me?
Sometimes I wonder
what you could possibly
see in me (like every day)
My beautiful eyes
and that perfect
"Doctor Who" quote
It means the world,
but I still ache to
hear you say
"You're beautiful."
I've seen her picture
She had your heart
(and more)
You love me,
I know it's true,
but I still don't
understand how you do
Am I worth this trouble?
With all my flaws and faults?
With all the ideas and beliefs?
With my brokenness, my mental health and
this busted up body of mine?
Can you see what I can't?
Because I have an ache in my heart
from the smiling stories
of all the old times I missed
My own story feels like
darkness broken by up by stars
until you showed up
and the sun rose running golden
into afternoons that feel
like home and childhood and
front porch talks
But I still find myself
laying here
singing "Hey, Jealousy"
and hating my brain,
when you smile and take my hand
"Forever and ever...no more privacy."
And I have to laugh
We are our own story
and I am beginning to realize
this is the start of something
I get to keep
and it will never end
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