You judge yourself on the magazine covers and who you were five years ago. You walk around like you're hot ****, unaware of who you really are.
*** appeal fades with time, as you compare in the five year gap. Talking about how much you've gained since sixteen and things you cant do but the vision of youth could do. Dancing all day and night, eating junk food, turning all the boys heads. I don't blame you, they were your glory days... But only in THIS mindset.

You see us both through high school. you as the tease and me as the geek, but maybe that's why you will never listen. Through the make-up and skimpy outfits, There's the sixteen year old that I was attracted to. Not the at the physical level everyone else saw. But at the soul, squeezing it's way through the gaps in the false persona.
Let's look back at the first time we really talked. You were scared for graduation the next year, unsure of the future and scared of what it would bring. That's who I fell in love with. The pale moonlight showing but a silhouette while somehow exposing pale blue eyes, Irises big like the volume button of the truth. getting bigger and bigger as you expose more and more of who you really were, and I believe still are.

You act like you have nothing to give but mental images during countless boys night moves. I'm sure there are millions of women out there that are hotter than you, while I've met few more beautiful. One day, who knows, you may look back and realize that my ****** texts at 2am where not implications of ***** calls, simple pick-up lines to get in your pants; but more desperate attempts to break doors down open you to a world of beauty. That time I walked cross town to talk to you, the last thing I wanted was to come inside. The rain falling on from the morning glow was a perfect way to wash the facade and unleash what I'm saying now.

You are beautiful. I don't care if nothing happens between us, that's not the point of this. The point is to show you that whatever happens, you never have to battle self esteem, Any man, boy or lad would be lucky to see your soul and be as inspired as I was. You were the worst person for a skinny sixteen year old boy to have a crush on, but you were exactly the muse he needed. That's why I told you before I left for America, "I'll miss you most of all. But I won't miss this, It's the reflections, the little flecks in your eyes. Not the perfection the other boys see, but the imperfections you try so desperately to hide."

Because that's who you are. That's real. That's who I love.