I would dig you an ocean if you'd swim in it, but you would always insist it's too cold. And I could take all the energy I invested in your happiness and warm the entire ocean over, but then you would say it's too warm, or too *****, too big, too small.
I would build you a home if you'd live in it, but you would complain about how the floors creak, and how everything isn't just exactly how it should be. I could sweep all of the dust under the couch where you would never see all of the leaks, and holes, and cracks, but you wouldn't even like the furniture. You wouldn't like any of it.
I would take all my love back if I knew how to - how to drain an ocean of years upon years of tears that I wasted on you.
But you took my love with you when you left for the other side of this country. And while you sit in a beautiful new house, looking out at a beautiful new ocean, I'll be here, in this miserable dry spell, hoping that if I swim all the way across this ******* ocean that it will bring me back to you.