I'm afraid to write about you because Ink makes me feel everything, And everything feels so much more real When my cursive words smudge up against The side of my hand and stain it blue As my pen races to keep up with my heart
But it can't be real, Because I thought I was moving on, I thought I was growing up, I thought I knew all of this was Foolish and starry-eyed
I thought, I thought, I thought But maybe I need to stop thinking And just let myself feel; Feel the butterflies you put in my stomach, Feel the pure bliss you infuse into bloodstream
And maybe I don't need to know everything, Like exactly what you're thinking Or exactly how I feel Or how all of this is going to turn out
I guess what I'm saying is that Everything isn't always going to be clear, I may come up to "two roads in a yellow wood" And not be absolutely certain which one I'm meant to take, But I do know that whichever path I choose, I'd like to be able to scan the trees and smile Because you're there walking alongside me.