Dear bae,
I'm sorry I can't fully devote myself to you, fall into your sweet embrace like death's, gaze into the universe in your eyes and slumber under your tender watch. Here calls me. I'm needed and I need to keep on.
I'm sorry to someone out there, looking at the sky for answers. No one will be for them. I won't be for them. I can show them a sunset if they sing me to sleep. They can tell me it's alright, whisper softly. There might be a moment when something stupid slips, and right then everything will seem to unravel at our feet in a carpet of infinities.
Unravel, unravel, rip, part and hit my head on the floor. They don't understand anymore. They changed. They lied. They aren't who I thought they were. You. Only you could be for me.
You're lost. You can't decide whether to be a smile on a waiter, a sense of familiarity of a friend, a glint in a celebrity's eye, a dancer's performance, a lithe hand holding a door open.
You're everywhere. You're the rays of sun peeking through velvet clouds, the sheen riding the waves on a lake, a skip in my step, a kiss from the summer breeze. You're everything.
You're missing.
