He may be able to write you novels,
Beautiful symphonies of the way his heart sings for you
Putting your name on a pedestal
Covering you in tiny paper hearts
But you are no ethereal, perfect being
I am not too blind to see, we are fallible and flawed
It's not about never seeing flaws
It's about loving them anyway
You are just a person
You are not greater, or higher, than I
We coexist on the same plane
He can write you novels
But I can design perfectly put together sentences for only your eyes
Sometimes the least amount of words have the most meaning