You make me believe in good again, the kind of good a kid feels on Christmas day.

When I’m with you, I want more time. It’s like it’s never enough. I want to consume you and all your thoughts, learn what made you who you are.

You once told me you weren’t lovable, I laughed because I couldn’t believe it cause it’s so damn easy and I hate it.

I fell for your faith. You remind me of who I was, the part of me I still liked. Your belief that everything will be okay calms me, the way I’d be comforted by my favorite teddy bear during a never-ending nightmare.

And most of all, I like when you just look at me, when you touch me; you act, you don’t think. I think that’s the real you and I like you.

You’re not mine to keep by my side, and that’s okay. Maybe it’s not today, maybe it’s another time, or maybe this was it. But thank you for reminding me what hope in a person tasted like, when I believed it had run out.