This is for you. But you won't read it.

If I had my way, the entire world would sing along to beautiful acoustic songs that I wrote sitting next to my bed with a cup of coffee at my feet along with a few scraps of paper, crumbled up with ideas that I deemed "not good enough." When I wrote them, you were sleeping on my bed and I was trying to be quiet because I couldn't fight back the urge to sing from the massive amount of inspiration you'd given me. After about ten tries or so I would get up and check on you, and you'd be smiling while you were sleeping. I'd brush your hair away from your forehead and give you a kiss, then sit back down and write a song about how wonderful you are. In time. Eventually. When I found the words I mean.

If things were the way that I wanted them, there would be no roads and no maps to calculate the distance between us. Ever. You'd always have the comfort of knowing where I was and what I was thinking and we'd have a normal, daily routine and that would be to defy all patterns and try new things and to see new places. Taking photos at the Grand Canyon with the cameras in our phones that we still would use to call one another as we were sitting a room apart.

In a perfect world, you would never be lonely. Even if you woke up in another city in a bed by yourself, you'd go to your doorstep to be greeted by a vase full of beautiful flowers and a note in the middle of them that says "Darling.. you're miles away but you're in my heart at the same time." It would mean everything if you'd smile, even if I couldn't see it.

But instead I'm hundreds of miles away. Doing everything I can to build a bridge from my island so I could see you. There's an ache in my fingertips that feels like the numbness in my body. Aching to be anywhere you are and to be held by all of you. Only you.