You say I see you too kindly,
like the way I talk about you doesn’t match the mirror.
But I’m not making anything up.
I’m just telling you what’s always been there-
what you won’t admit,
but I’ve always seen.

You’re warmth.
Not just kind warmth-
but the kind I’ve been looking for,
the kind I thought didn’t exist.

I tell you you’re beautiful,
and you give me that look.
But it’s not about belief.
It’s just what’s true.

You’ve said you might love me more.
Maybe you do.
But I still love you like it’s the only thing I’m sure of.
And that doesn’t stop
just because someone’s love runs louder.

When I play, I lose myself in sound.
But when I’m with you,
I don’t want to be anything else.
No note I’ll ever play
means more than sitting beside you when nothing’s happening.

Music makes me feel everything.
You make me feel home.

So even if you shake your head at what I say-
even if you never fully believe it-

I’ll still say it.
I’ll still mean it.
I’ll still love you
as hard as I can.