And sometimes when the stars
shine as bright as your eyes, and the moon
pulls me in as deeply as the waves, I
wonder what may have become of us
had I not reached out to you
that January.

My keyboard may not have been glued
to my thumbs and my heart may have kept
its normal rhythm, but my smile would
not have been as wide. My eyes would not
sparkle at the sound of your name, for my heart
would not have tied its strings around it, and
you would not have become the source of
my laughter. My hands would not
crave the touch of yours and my lips would
not miss their other half. My favourite songs
would not make my eyes glimmer like they do
now, your cologne would be just another scent
and my heart would not be shattered.

I love you.
I love you for loving me. For showing
me what it was like to be consumed with
overwhelming joy. For making me the
brightest star in your solar system, when
I was only a diamond in the rough. For always
being there when I needed you. For accepting
me as the emotional wreck I was. For
letting me be entirely myself, and for letting
me love you with my entire being.

I hate you.
I hate you for sadness I felt. For being so
loveable that I couldn't have stopped myself
even if I'd tried. For making me love you
so much that I forgot what it was like to
ever live without you. For loving me so much
that when you left it felt like someone turned
off every light in the universe and cut off my
oxygen supply. For making it impossible for
any other boy to compare to you.

I like to think that we may have still ended up
together had I not made the first move. That
you would have seen me walking through the
crowd and reached out to me instead. That our
love story was meant to be.

That if we had been more careful
we would still be together
and you might still love me.