“I’d buy you rogaine, when you start losing all your hair
Sew on patches to all you tear
Cuz I love you more than I could ever promise
And you take me the way I am”
Sew on patches to all you tear
Cuz I love you more than I could ever promise
And you take me the way I am”
Yea, that’s how I feel about him…even though I don’t seem to sew that well and he doesn’t think he’ll ever lose his hair. The latter matters more to him than it ever will to me. He inspires me but I’m not sure what to write. Wait, because I think you misunderstood me. I’m writing this for me, but I’m not sure you would understand all that I’d write about him.
Where I’m at right now, it’s untouchable, and so if I tried to explain him to you, it would just sound or read like nonsense. He’s many streams of consciousness that always seem to collide. To borrow a line from a favorite song,
So maybe you get it now, it’s not that I can’t, it’s quite explicitly, that I won’t. I know you want to know, but it’s really for your own good that I don’t tell you, that I don’t say anything because that’s when I say the most. If you look, not even too intently, you’ll see him on me. What I feel, somehow finds its way out. It radiates off of me. It’s like a humidifier in that way; it clears my air, helps me breathe. But if you think I need him you’re wrong because, you see, the shoe’s on the other foot.
What you should see is how he needs me. I’m a testament to his greatness. Without him, I’m me and without me, he’s him, but together it’s we. Like the color inside the lines, an uncolored book, is still what it is. But think what a few crayons and color pencils could do for it! We is the color of a drawing, the highlight on a page. We means, someone was here, they left a mark, and now, I will never be the same. It’s not just as good, it’s a lot closer to better.
Where I’m at right now, it’s untouchable, and so if I tried to explain him to you, it would just sound or read like nonsense. He’s many streams of consciousness that always seem to collide. To borrow a line from a favorite song,
“love’s too weak to define just what you mean to me.”
What you should see is how he needs me. I’m a testament to his greatness. Without him, I’m me and without me, he’s him, but together it’s we. Like the color inside the lines, an uncolored book, is still what it is. But think what a few crayons and color pencils could do for it! We is the color of a drawing, the highlight on a page. We means, someone was here, they left a mark, and now, I will never be the same. It’s not just as good, it’s a lot closer to better.
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