You call me brave sailor when it’s you who can properly give justice to that word. I could never imagine that someone like you would still come, would still offer me redemption; I have lost faith on myself, on love and in life, in general. But you never left; even you know that I could not yet reciprocate what you have in store for me. I am still in shock that love betrayed me. I am still doubtful on myself because I poured everything to her, my dreams, hopes, goals and even fears and I’m not sure if there’s something left in me that I could offer you.
I may be broken but I’m still functional. I want to thank you for staying close, for always being there saving a seat for me even if you don’t know I’d come, for holding my hand every time someone mention her new lover, every time you reciprocate my smile, for never getting tired of my dark nights, for welcoming me all over again. Thank you, really, for not pushing me too hard,for pulling into embrace whenever I’m cold from drenching in the rain of ‘used to be’s’, for not rushing me into things I’m not ready to take in.
I want you to know that if there is such thing as beyond beautiful, that is you. You just don’t suffice my eyes with your ageless beauty; you also provide shelter for my soul. I would love you, I swear you’re not hard to love but you don’t deserve a half here, half there love. You deserve so much more, you deserve a burning passion, the one that set the dead into resurrection, the one that fills every crack in your heart with fondness and satisfaction. You don’t deserve me yet, you don’t deserve my brokenness. Let me aid myself first, let me find my essence and then we will see what the future holds.
In the meantime, let me stay here. Let the cold wind of December fill in my hardened roots. Let me sway with the temperamental waves of the deepest ocean; let me save my own self from the destruction that the past made. Let me just admire you from a far, just like a stray sailor admires a lighthouse for its light of welfare that never gets tired, never gets dull.
I promise when this storm in me calms itself, I’d hold your hand, and I swear we will head home.
//Prettiest friend-Jason Mraz