My eyes look at you wishing you could see what they’re trying to tell you.  They’re crying out that I think of you every hour of every day.  Is my gaze too brief, never giving you a chance to catch what my eyes are telling you?

I find myself standing outside looking up at the sky, letting the raindrops softly caress my face and run down my body, thinking that if only you could see that you have someone in me who doesn’t attempt to define you, but just sees you for who you are and who loves you wholly.  If you could stand outside yourself for one moment, you would see that you have someone that you never have to struggle to be good enough for.  You have someone who believes it felonious, the idea of changing who you are.  You’ve got someone right here who is continuously proud of how responsible, reliable, and persistent you are.  Does this charade have to continue?  Can’t we stop only seeing ourselves and look up to see each other?

I can’t lie to myself anymore; we will never ride off into the sunset together.  I have to move forward, cherishing my memories of you and letting go of the person standing in front of me now.

I do believe you could have been the great love of my life.

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