when almost everything
feels rather new
almost every day

So, here's another thing I've written to you. I've filled pages and pages, and, I kept a record. It's calles: "All the things I wanted to tell you, but never did." Usually, I call it "All and more." I just read one of 'em back. And I still can't explain the anger I felt. "3 months you've been posessing my mind." I still feel the anger from when I wrote that down. I was so mad. Not at you, but at myself. At the world. For letting me feel this way, and allowing myself to feel this. I used to think you were just a wave of lurid inspiration. But you weren't. You weren't just a wave, you were the entire ocean. And everyone knows how beautiful the ocean is.

I wanted to write a goed poem,
But words don't always work in the way you expect them to.

That's what I see
When I see you
Us up on a hill
Touching the moon

That's what I see
When I look at the sky
A fiery light that I'll
Find in your eyes