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.