Sometimes I wonder if I will ever love someone the same as they love me. Will it always be too much or not enough or somewhere in between? I'm not sure why I have it wrong time and time again. But I always end up feeling lonely or want them more as just a friend. Will someone ever love me like I love them? Will we ever walk down the same path and not have to pretend? I'm not sure why I have these vices but my grandpa I think had them too. I found poems he wrote on a typewriter, back in '62. They weren't about love but they rhymed in a way that showed he hurt. If I could only know the memories that lay in his body behind his tobacco smoke-infused shirt.