I like you.

I really do.
You're not perfect, and I'm not either.

There aren't stars
when I see
you,
a violet swirl
of painful
desire,
but

I'm happy.

And you are too.

They tell me
not to
settle,
but
every time,
I have to settle.

If it's you or someone new,
every time,
I'll have to settle

because I'll always be
me and
no one will ever
be him