Sometimes I forget who she is.
The girl who loved “Moon River,” the girl who dreamed without daring
Sometimes I forget who she is.
The piano player, the flower picker, the one who always buys way too many cinnamon brooms
come Autumn.
The smiler, the feeler, the midnight dancer
The one who knows that sometimes the best remedy to a rough day is a candle, some Norah Jones, and
someone warm to lay next to
The rainy day dreamer, the walk taker, the nail painting optimist
The night-time romantic
The lover, tea drinker
The “sometimes I need you”

— I have been trying for so long to be so strong. But more than anything, the girl I really am just wants to wake up to the warmth of your arms around her, say “good morning” and smile, knowing I’ll be next to you every morning from now on.