She is the smell of new books.

Shes is hot chocolate, and a blanket, on a snowy day.

She is that first bite of big mac after a night out.

She is red and blue, side by side.

She is 8-bit games.

She is staying awake till 5 in the morning.

She is anaphoric.

She is oblivious.

'What does a sculptor see in the rock?'
'None, dear child, none and nothing.'
'What does the tailor see in the frock?'
'Naught, dear child, naught and nothing.'

'Tell me, what does the musician see in his song?'
'Little, dear child, little and less.'
'What does a philosopher see in the wrong?'
'Too much, dear child, too much and distress.'

'But, what does a pilot see in the sky?'
'A bit, dear child, a bit and a little.'
'What does the poet see in my eye?'
'Something, dear child, something at least.'

'Daddy, what do you see in the smoke?'
'So much, dear child, much and more than you.'
'And what do you see when your voice shrinks to a choke?'
'Dear child, so much I cannot still scream.'

'I'll tell you what I see, and not for my youth
I see a statue, an elfin body, a melody and truth,
I see the clouds and the freedom to fly,
I see the hope and the faith in my eye.

In the smoke, Daddy, I see nothing but air,
In your choke I hear needless despair.
I grew up to love you, and love you I do
But I can never see things in the same way as you.'

The father, he blushed and spoke out so strong,
'Darling, I wished to be free,
But now I can see that without you I'm wrong
**Without you I cease to be me.'

remember those 'i love you more fights'?

looks like i won.

" you're love is ****, which is a legal, you're kisses are whiskey, but I'm not 21, you're hugs are the fast car feels, yet I can not drive. I did not listen to my mother whispering " he's bad news" you were wrapped tightly around my little ring finger, although you were all bad you were my high and drunken nights. I knew what I was doing was wrong but I felt so in love.
Now you're gone and it feels the same, honestly. You're love is like ****, it's burns my throat when I try to talk about you, it also makes me so very confused. You're kisses are whiskey, before it was fun now there is no urge for it. You're hugs probably still feel the same but I haven't seen you in weeks. Now months later I know longer just miss you, I miss us, and there for the feelings are there but you're not there to fill them no more"