​I love you more than the moon loves the stars
that it appears every night just to get a glimpse.
I love you more than a bird’s need to soar through the clouds
as if it were meant to glide forever.

I love you more than a baby’s first blanket
as they cling tightly to the seams and never let it out of their sight.
I love you more than a rainbow’s love for colour
that it lets every single one stream through the clouds in perpetual awe.

I love you more than the rain’s passion for the ground
that it risks the detrimental fall just to touch its surface.
I love you more than the very first day,
and everyday after that,

till this very day, where I’ve loved you most
and have never loved anything just as much.
Every second my love grows and longs for the scent of you
and your hand in mine,

intertwined,
as if they were a painting
that would live through the centuries and never die.
And though my love for you seems eternal,

I am afraid you do not feel the same.
And as my love for you grows,
your love seems to decay,
just like the moon’s final seconds before every sunrise;

a bird’s tired wings;
a baby’s growth blossoming
into something less innocent, less attached;
a rainbow’s last goodbye through the puddles left to dry;

the drops of rain that only lived their lives
watching themselves fall into their unfriendly fate,
and just like the last minutes of every single day -
there will always be an end.

There will always be a “last,”
instead of something that was made to last.
And here I stand to love you, for as long as I can,
and though yours has halted, I still hold true to my promise:

to love you like it were the very first day
as if it would never require a last one.

- g.d.