I know I'm not her.
Not the talented girl.
The one who peaks your highest interest then kicks you to the curb.
I know I'm not perfect.
I know I'm not her.
But I still have feelings.
That don't just occasionally occur.
I love to sing
Only when I'm alone.
When I sing anywhere can feel like home.
I love to paint pictures of raw emotion.
Nature has feelings too.
I draw and I write
When I'm upset it eases my pain.
Opening up to someone who hurt me has left me in shame.
I love deep conversation especially under the moon.
I love how at place everything felt when I started to fall in love with you.
But I know I'm no one special.
I know I'm not the best.
Every feeling I have comes straight from my chest.
I know I'm not perfect.
But could I be enough?
Enough for you to love.