I want you to look at me and stare. And after minutes of understanding silence, I want you to say;
“No. Stupid girl, the trees weren’t blowing In the wind, they were waving at you.
The little bandaid on your ankle isn’t what holds you together,
the amber in your eyes without any imperfections does that.
You’re not far from where you’ll be, I promise this but what does any of it matter if you’re with me,”
so I can tell you I love you too.