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That's My Beautiful Girl

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I can't explain everything that goes through my mind exactly the way I can't explain why I exist.

So I won't.

I can't see what you're mind is thinking and what your heart is feeling. But I know that I'm a part of it like you're a part of me. The bond of friendship runs between us too deeply to be ignored.

I can't read your face, but I know the mysterious glare in your eyes just as I know the stars like fiery streaks drawing fading lines in the sky, trying to connect their own dots.

I know that the days go by where you won't whisper in my ear and tell me you love me.

But those days are not real. Not like the face of the clock keeping me always one step off beat.

And you, you stand there and know the difference between fantasy and reality. Know the line between the negative space and the infinite parallels. Know "in between" lines do not exist. Only words create intricate weaves around our tongue and a true sense of longing in our ears.

When I think of you I think of a thousand cranes and how I'd make one less than a thousand, surrendering my wish to you because you are my only wish.

The small things you say, the details within the stitches, the whispered lullabies, the endless thoughts always lead me to the words I wish you'd say,

"That's my beautiful girl." Words meaning anything but nothing. Words that cause my body to shiver and my cheeks to blush. Words that he would mean solely for me.

I would sit on the beach, sand filling the spaces in between my fingers; a space titled and stowed away for only your hands. The waves would wash in compassionate comforting words, begging me to lose myself amongst the blue unclouded water, but I would refuse, wanting to wait for you.

This universe is infinite, but do you know completely if it's true? I don't. I guess it's the same with love. The same with the feelings I've shown you. It's plain in sight.

I am hopeful like the last warmly colored orange leaf hanging onto the empty branch while winter wind is battling against it, telling it to move on. I refuse to move on.

I love you, like the moon loves its stars and the sky its clouds. Like the rain against the sun creating an arc of color, like the unspoken secret that lingers on your mind, like the pure form of everything stripped from sin.

But you love her like all of these. And as the seasons change so do I, blending in and standing out when I become the same shade of everyone else. Staying the same, but changing when the tempo of life begins to drown out the colorful vibes. Keeping the onerous feeling in my eyes, but swiftly covering it when you walk by.

"That's my beautiful girl." Your voice contrasting against the syllables, as I glance up, watching you fill the space in between her fingers nodding to me in acknowledgment, nothing more.

I smell your distinct sent of too many places mashed together in the threads of your hoodie, the scent that embodies me when we've hugged before, but fades. The scent that renews my smile like an overdue book and brings to life my soul like the flavors of chicken noodle soup. "I love you."



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