I thought,
Maybe I only wrote when I was in love.
But you see,
I still am.
It's just now he's gone,
And I can't seem to find those beautiful words anymore.

Because someday,
You'll forget his scent.
And someday,
You won't reread those letters.
And someday, those memories will be so faded, you'll question what was real.
And while he'll never mean nothing to you,
You'll move on.
You know, maybe you never will find "better".
But at least you'll find something different.
Something,
Easier..

I was the one who watched you
Stray from the one you loved.
Each night to her, you'd say,
"I love you".
And now she means nothing.
Which makes me wonder if
All of this will soon be
Nothing, too.

It was the kind of love that kept you up until 2 am.
The kind of love that always kept you reaching for one more kiss.
It was the most beautiful kind of love.
The kind of love in fairy tales.
The hardest to keep,
And the hardest to let go.

The most tragic love stories
Are the ones where,
There's too much love
To match the too much
Distance.

But how could someone like him possibly love someone like me?
For he was incomparable to the whole galaxy.
And I?
For I was a barely one star,
A merely lit star.