The kiss of the stoic breeze
Is the most loving thing
I've felt in your presence.
Your tarot cards showed destruction,
But I knew I could face your wrath.
Ball it up and hold it over your head
But I dropped it on myself instead.
You played God, and I played dead.
I still can't figure this out..
But there's something to be said
About a person who feels
Nothing but warmth
When they're lucky enough
To touch something so cold.

You are not your age,
Nor the size of the clothing you wear,
You are not a weight,
Or the colour of your hair.
You are not your name,
Or the dimples in your cheeks,
You are all the books you read,
And all the words you speak,
You are your croaky morning voice,
And the smiles you try to hide,
You're the sweetness in your laughter,
And every tear you've cried,
You're the songs you sing so loudly,
When you know you're all alone
You're the places you've been to,
And the one that you call home,
You're the things that you believe in,
And the people that you love,
You're the photos in your bedroom,
And the future you dream of,
You're made of so much beauty,
But it seems that you forget,
When you decided that you were defined,
By all the things you're not.