i found my faith in you,
in your eyes and your words and your mind and every little piece of you, it had my faith in it
this was a different kind of worship
in which the familiar feeling of intertwining our fingers and looking out on the town we grew up on, the very same town we were so scared of

if i could trace back my steps i would
i would go backwards just for you but we haven't figured out how to do that yet
i would give you the moon, the stars
the sun and the earth
(on well-met conditions)
i would have given you anything you asked for
and you knew that, didn't you

now i see my faith long gone in someone who isn't you,
because the familiar tilt in your half-smile is gone and the creases under your eyes are much darker than you would allow
i try and ask you where it's gone but the voice that comes out isn't the one that told me it loved me.

so i think i'm losing my faith, and when it's all gone, what will i have left but the husk of what you used to be?

I slightly opened up to you
but your face of smiles
turned to a face of tears.

That's when I knew that's
all you could ever know,
for the rest surely ****.

Oh, sweetheart.
You're every star in the sky.
You remind me of a snowdrop encased in dark, cracked resin. Maybe frozen into the ice, then, deep beneath where the sun ever reached. The pride of the leviathan of the deep.
God, you're breathtaking.
Your eyes convey a thousand wishes, hope still glinting deep in there. You cultivate it like a small ember, a glowing shard of coal in the rain. It never goes out, not all the way. You can always blow it back to life.
You absolutely astound me.
Your bravery, your courage, your presence, it envelops me like the rumble of a thunderstorm deep within my chest. Your existence shines so bright it could light a path through Victorian London smog, your machinations a delightful enigma.
I cannot imagine not knowing you now.
Alabaster and deep azure, soot and iridescent verdant. I could get lost in your soul. Gazing into your mind feels like ****** of a secret, absolute ******. You make my blood boil. My veins are blue, bluest blue, thinking about you.
You're every book on the shelf.
You're every smile from a stranger.
You're every star in the sky.
Oh, sweetheart.

A thousand copy of your smiles
Yet the real one was not for mine

The infant peers out,
of the window
as it soars high up in the sky.

Introduced by those,
who beget her,
into the land of opportunity.

the years passed by,
infant to toddler to a young adult,
cradled by this lavish land.

The memories with her folks,
the life engrained in her blood,
as she prepares to soar.

With a heavy heart,
she vacates her second
home, with hope for better.

Alas, there she peers out,
of the same window, for the last time
as that life becomes a memory.