A notebook full of fantasies,
filled to the brim with words
I've always been too afraid to say out loud.
Love letters never sent,
memories never spent,
because the love never existed
in the first place,
you've only ever been an idea
that I've meticulously made up
inside my mind.
The perfect person doesn't exist
and I know I'm still a kid,
but when I look at you, I wonder,
Are you my perfect person?
Or am i just getting my hopes up again?