I like you,

and I talk to the moon about you — but this time, I’m waking up for mornings.

I like you,
but it’s not every time I write about your favorite euphoria.

I like you,
and I’ve watched you dance,
but it’s not every time my heart would beat for your smiles.

I like you,
and I have always been,
but it’s not every time I go look up and watch the moon as your spotlight.

It’s not every time I proclaim courage in writing the words
that were used to be your definitions — and if your story was a novel,
I’ll forever be just a hidden chapter of your regrets.

– El