What is going on in my head at this moment:

Come up to meet you,
tell you I'm sorry,
you don't know how lovely you are...
I had to find you,
tell you I need you.
Tell you I set you apart.
Tell me your secrets.
Ask me your questions.
Oh, let's go back to the stars.

The way she feels inside, so real she can't deny.
I miss the kitchen.
I miss the bed sheets.
I miss the grass.
I miss the laughing.
I miss the love.

I'm still not ready.

My hands are so short, stubby and ugly. In a lot of ways my handwriting doesn't reflect that at all, at least that's how I like to look at it. The point is, I didn't dream about him last night, which made me things worse because then I thought about him all day. Let me know what I've done wrong, but I've known what is was all along.

H: No man gives up his honor for love.
N: Millions of women have done just that.