She is perfect. Itâs not a competition.
I pale in comparison to her.
I am the sun. Bright, wild, passionate - everything youâd think youâre looking for. Then you realize Iâm not.
People come to me, sometimes. They take what they want, my energy, my light, just so they can get a tan. But no one stays for too long.
Nobody really seeks me out.
No one looks at me for more than a couple of seconds. No one wants too much of me. No one wants to try for risk of getting sunburnt.
Other times, most of it, everyoneâs too busy working, doing routine, living their lives, to actually stop and notice me. Busy. Busy, busy. Everyoneâs too busy around me. They canât wait until the day is over.
The best part of me is the end - the sunset. Or the sunrise.
I am made of reality. No one wants to get to know me. Because reality, life in daylight, the truth, is far too harsh.
She -
she is the night sky. The moon, the stars, and the infinity of life. Memories are made, epic and great, under her presence. She is made out of romance and magic. She is made of dreams.
People seek her out. Plan travels and schedule to pause their entire lives just to look at her. And itâs not even a glimpse. Everyone stays up for hours, sometimes the entire night, just to spend time with her.
Weâre all attracted to her. Drawn to her good vibes and possibilities. She is when we nestle safely inside a loverâs arms, party all our cares away, or make bonfires to skinny dip with friends for the first time.
There is nothing dangerous about her. Whether itâs the city skyline or natureâs aurora - everybody is in love. She is soft, alluring. Van Gogh painted a masterpiece about her.
She is boundless. She is perfect. She is beautiful.
I pale in comparison.
gummygunk
izzy806
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
theartofmadeline
2087
