Her

"Does she make you happy?"

"Sometimes."

"It's a yes or no question."

"... Yes. In the end of everything, of time, of love, of myself... Yes. I think she always will."

"Does that scare you?"

"immensely."

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I don't mean to write about you too much but your smile captivates me and there's something about it that has me writing 

i haven't quite figured out what yet

but i'm smiling and so i'll keep writing with your name on my lips

do you think about me? because i think about you. 

It seems like it's always been streetcars and grasshoppers and benign house lights with her voice in the background of it all. She's a paradox with no where to go and no one to tell except me, I think. We talk for too long and say goodbye too quickly but it's always been that way and I've always loved that about us.

Can I say us?

Her heart is golden and I want to tell her that I'd do anything to polish mine up again. When I say I'll change for her, I've never meant it more. 

Please let me learn how to be perfect for you.

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Smile a while longer, my darling

Your eyes eclipse the sun and
There's something a little perfect about you

Won't you keep company with my broken heart?

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