I could give you a list of hand written "I miss you's" that would stretch to the moon and back but it still wouldn't convey to you just how my heart aches when you're away.  I could bend and mold to your every whim, do every single thing your heart desires, but I don't think you'd pick up on the fact that I'd give anything to keep you happy. I could tell you that your eyes are green with grey and gold swirling through them without even looking at you and you probably still wouldn't notice how much I stare into them. I've seen you at your worst, and at your best, and been right here throughout it all and still you haven't caught on that I love you.

one simple question,
why do i exist?

There's a fine, fine, line between love and a waste of time,* That lyric never had meaning to me until I was drowning in a sea of hopeless, unrequited, I love you's. I always thought it was a silly lyric until it proved to be so true. I wish I was still blissfully unaware of how dreadfully fine a line it seems to be. And how much wasted time I spent listening to you say that you loved me.

I still remember your hug
arms rigid with reluctance
and also the way you barely cared
but I held onto you
till I made sure that my fingers left prints
to remind you that you mattered to me
more than I did to you.