You.

You.
You make me want to pick up all the pieces and get started right away on a brand new life.
And you make me want to do it every time you jot a couple things down.
You do it without effort, as a second nature
and you do it for me.
I continue on because of you,
that one day I might meet someone else like you
and that they be right for me in the ways that you say you're not.
You make me want to stick up my middle finger and keep it there
at everyone else in the world who won't be as compassionate as you
and won't give anything a chance the way you would.
There's some days I think I'm going to go out and meet you
and never come back again.
I'll make a single call back home and leave a message.
I'd say;
'Hi, it's me...
I'm never coming back.'
And then I'd hang up the phone
and look back to you
and get lost in your loving arms forever.
You make it so that all the bad people don't matter
even if there are 3.2 billion of them.
And you make it so that the all hurt goes away
even though it's been there as long as I remember.
You heal wounds and shoot down stars.
You bring home the tofu and deliver every time.
You're the goods, baby, and I'm not afraid to say it.
So here's to long walks and holding hands at the coffee bar.
And here's to picking you up and carrying you home.
Because if I could only say one more thing in my whole life
it'd be to tell you how special you really are to me.

Aw... I'm such a softie...

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