You show up everyday with a wish leaving your lips, you will make it through this you say. You have not missed a day and I can’t thank you enough. I’ve gotten you confused for a shooting star so many times, I’m sure they’re quite jealous of you. I know we aren’t close to perfection, but if I accept your flaws anymore than I did this past year, is it okay if I call you perfect? For where my heart breaks, you fill it with cement. For where it dries, you use a stick to write quotes about distance, oh how a million miles wouldn’t make a difference as long as I smile today. You show tenderness, love and delicacy where I am cruel and cold, you show bluntness and sluggishness where I am beating around the bush. I have grown attached to you, but I have also grown into my own bruised skin in some way. Although the days may be grey and sometimes frosty, you say sunlight is an adorer and a sweetheart waiting around the corner, we just have to look for it somewhere. If I go looking for you amongst the cosmos, I bet you will be wherever little baby stars are born. Atlas and Electra would bow down to you. You give each one of them a name because what’s lonelier than a toddler who has no name. We put ink on papers of what we go through the day and to make sense of that day, I know you’ll be here and there when the sky talks about making changes. We’ve been spending our two-bits and dimes to see both sides of the story and I have become a better man because of you. I know I still have a long way to go, but as long as you’re around. There’s nothing I can’t do. My darling, my dearest, how in the world did they come up with you? Was it the time you fell in love with the clouds? I heard rain is the awaited phone call that my roof has been waiting for. We all search for home within people we care about, if I ever need to feel safe, I know you’re just an inch away from where my heart beats. You know something? Even if I stopped breathing, you could probably take my breath away without giving me a single thing in return. My darling, my dearest, my love, when did they leave your bristles with such colors? Was it the time they asked for your hand? We all bruise a little when asked about commitment, but I’ve been committed to figuring you out ever since you said I love you. My darling, my dearest, do your teardrops cry too? Listen slowly now. That must be the rain. I know we live for the dew on roses, but somewhere out there among gardens I haven’t grown much– every bloom is still waiting to meet you.