I am.

I want something more than ordinary.

I want something more than good enough.

I am far more than unfamiliar, something so unusual.

Part of me filled in realism and the other with vicious hope.

I am not the empty space in your bed,

or the ***** sheets in your hand.

I am not your mistakes,

I am not your change.

I am not the missing ring on your hand,

I am not the slave you pretend.

I am not the words you hate,

or the sounds you fake.

I am a symphony of colors swirling streamers,

I am the wishful thinker, the day dreamer.

I am the waning sunset that makes your silhouette.

I am the daily voice that stays in your head.

I am your reminder of every clever one liner.

I am just myself for you, no less, no finer.

I am the early morning light,

that peeks in through your window.

I am the soft early autumn breeze,

that caresses you in late summer heat.

I am the midnight rain,

that quietly pitter-patters you to sleep.

I am the smile you receive from every face you meet,

that reminds you of your beauty.

I am the passing seasons of every year

that reminds you of me.

I am the one you still love,

buried six feet underneath.

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