If blood was the color of missing you,
I’d have it all over my hands.
I’ve done nothing all weekend long
but think of ways to love you.
My thoughts are a constant wind
and constant water, lapping you.
My blood is the color of missing you.
Find someone who isn’t afraid to admit that they miss you. Someone who knows that you’re not perfect, but treats you as if you are. Someone whose biggest fear is losing you. One who gives their heart completely. Someone who says I love you and means it. Last but not the least, find someone you wouldn’t mind waking up with you in the morning, seeing your wrinkles, and you gray hair, but still falls in love with you all over again.