You

Love isn't about notes, no.
It isn't about the way you make me feel when
I'm walking alone down Broadway, or how I
feel when I lying in bed, biting down on my pillow, no.

Love isn't about your photographs, or the moments
frozen under the lake by my old house, or the light under
the lamp post in your neighborhood, oh, no.

How I'd dream of getting back, and staying there, forever.
But there's a reason that these place will go away and
become replaced with new ones that look just the same,
but for different people.

It's the thing that keeps us pushing forward,
despite another overcast day. Despite another walk around
South Quad and down Division. It's what makes me look
out into the cold dark wind and see a warmth, higher and
further away from me, yet warming me like it was in my
gloves and around my heart.

It's a reason, but it's locked so tightly that I can't see
what it is when I try to look down at my chest.

But I know one thing, and that's that God had put it there,
and I'm one his own.

Can I see what is in my heart, no not at all; not clearly, at least.

But it's whenever I look at you,
Where I notice a reflection in your arresting golden eyes
which captivates my soul and everything within me,
You're a mirror, love, you are, someone's there in your eyes,
Reaching out and praying to some One,
For something to change,
For someone to lift his heavy heart and support his arms,
Someone to hold everything he ever had and ever will.

"What can I do in this God forsaken world,
filled with broken people and busted clocks,
what can I do, God?
How can I wake up to a nightmare, Lord,
How can I? Where can I go? Were can I?!"

But then I realized when everything snapped into focus...
...That the person in your eyes was me.