To speak love, what is more beautiful than that?

Moving somewhere will always be scary, but not moving at all is even terrifying.

[That he shouldn't look at me with wonder why I was smiling at the sky for he must know that it is as blue as I feel inside; that I see good in bad yet I lack trust with anything for I got disappointed numerous times so then I learned to please everyone to not become one; that I look at him with desire because he has the features poets love to write about; and this anger was never because of him but a generational rage my father and I carry]

I want to tell him I wasn't weird and not even good. He must know that he is the epitome of love and the reason for this sentiment. He must know that I was once a little girl who aimed to prove the world her worth, until love carried all the weight that once held her back. I want to tell him all this. I wanted to. Then again, I chose the silence.