I was writing you words of love, thinking it would be sweet and beautiful
Because that's what love is, isnt it
Took my pen and papers and started inking the pages

But my words were not as kind as I expected
Instead I wrote about
Fearing I would never be enough for you, because when you shine so bright
Surely I can't be anything but dull.

I thanked you for
bearing with me, because I was hard to know
and I thanked you for your patience
in front of my self loathing
and for your will to stay
when clearly I was too much or not enough
both at once.

So I tore down the letter.
Why were these words the only ones that came to me, why does love hide so many
ugly truths
I don't want them to be the only traces left of us

So, someday, I will tell you instead,
and my letter will only be the candid,
the beauty.
And the raw, devastating parts of
loving someone so much it hurts,
I'll hold on to them a little bit longer.

Because I'll grow out of hating myself,
But I wont grow out of loving you.