I could live on a rainbow,

in the clouds, and the sunshine

wouldn't brighten my gray skies.

Some days I'd rather feel the pain

you so easily inflict, rather than

this loneliness. At least then, you would

tell me words, whether they were

synonymous with "love" or not.

I sit in History and stare out

the window because in my head

I am writing you letters. I am

writing letters to the only person

who made everything feel real,

the only person I trusted, the only

person I'll ever love. I don't

live on a rainbow in the clouds,

but you could still be the sunshine

to brighten my gray skies.