Just because something can be beautiful,
Doesn't mean that it's right.
And yeah, you held me, I sighed and the world stopped,
But was that love? No.
Fairytales don't always have a princess and a prince,
But a couple of usurpers to the throne,
A couple of misfits trying to be ok,
When they aren't.
And we sang sad songs, and cried.
The world seemed so cruel, but now I know.
That they were right.
And you're a part of my past, and not a good part.
A part he has to try to love,
And he's filled with hope,
But it's real,
You were a dream, and he's my perfect reality.
And now I don't need fantasy,
Because he's here.
Real.
Mine.
And if he goes,
I'll know, at least,
That it was worth it.
He's all dirt, and substance, and reality,
Grit and realism, in an optimistic way,
Sees the bad in the world,
And tries to mend it.
And his beauty isn't in pretentious tales,
But in the colour of his eyes,
And his simple intentions,
His even simpler words,
And the way he looks at me.
And oh, his heart.