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What am I to you?

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I like you
like I like the smell of rain
I like you like I like the feel of pain.
And I love you
as much as I love the sun that shines through the rain
as much as I love my sisters laughter which gets me through the pain.
And I think of you
as frequently as I wait for my train
as frequently as I listen to the Beatles sing of Penny Lane.
And I want you
even more than I want creeps to stop staring at me on the train
even more than I want I to run away to Penny Lane.
And I feel for you
as strongly as I feel for the falling whistles
as strongly as I feel the sting of sitting on a pile of bristles.
And I need you
more than I need to sometimes cry
more than I need my friends to never lie, to me-
to me,
you are beautiful
you are wonderful
you are simply lovely.
To me
you've become important
you've become inspiring
you've become everything I'd love to be.
To me
my days are only complete once we've shared a phone call
my lips are only smiling once you've complimented me
my heart's only content once you've said that you care for it.
To me you've become me everything
my sun
my sky
my stars
everything.
But what am I to you?
Do I even get to be
anything?



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