I write a lot about you.
All the love songs I used to be so skeptical about now starting to make sense. You are the love I am very comfortable of having, the shooting star I would reach with my bare hands, the snow of my winter, the warmth of my autumn, the sight I would always want to capture.
Every poem I read refers to you.
Even when you and I are worlds apart, even if your heart will never be mine to hold, my love will follow wherever you go. I will be the nearest bus stop you would step your feet in to avoid the pouring rain. I will be the smell of your favorite freshly-baked bread you buy every morning. I will be the person giving you a penny when the cashier doesn’t provide a change. I will be the love you never have, the chance you never take, the path you never choose.
Even when you pull the string and it is somebody else coming; for you, my love will remain a blessing—to keep you safe, to wish you the whole world and its entire good thing.
