There are so many things I want to tell you about, like the times I've written your name down over and over in the hopes that it would lose its meaning. I look up at the sky and I wonder if you look at it and think of me, the way that I think of you. I keep looking for you in the cracks between my fingertips, hoping that you are still hiding somewhere near. I know that you were too bright for me but I would risk going blind if it meant I got to keep looking at you.