I am extraordinary.
Not in the usual way that a thing is extraordinary.
A thing is usually extraordinary in the way it is special, unique;
I am extraordinary in my height, in my stature.
And I know that's not much but it's been my one constant for twenty years
and I have grown fond of the way I tower over my problems.

And then there's you.

I met you and suddenly I didn't feel extraordinary at all.
You made me feel so different.
I met you and I felt small.
And for me that's something, you know
because I don't ever feel small.
I don't ever feel like the world can crush that part of me
and suddenly you do just that.

And I want to tell you.

I want to whisper in your ear how much you matter,
how grand you are with your adornments and your ways.
The way you don't even have to try.

Like a blast of winter air, you come along and freeze my lungs;
leaving me breathless and aching, gasping for life.
Then like spring sunshine, your eyes thaw me again
and I wish that I was the reason for your smile.

But I am only a flower and you are a garden.

I am a grain of salt and you are an ocean.

You are the bravest
the boldest
the strongest
the most
and best of all this life has to offer.

But I am me and you are you.

And we can never be.