The city skyline at night is a beautiful thing.
So many little lights, all left on for all the little people.
I wish she could see it too.
The skylines remind me of her, in weird ways that I can't really explain.
But all of those little twinkling lights, doing their best to light the way for the people,
Without question,
So bright and beautiful, yet so under appreciated, and only missed when gone.
They're her.

I like to drive to the top of the mountain and call her,
Listen to her talk about herself, her day, her life, her feelings,
And just watch all the city lights flicker and burn,
And the stars above, though providing not assistance in the dark,
Just there, being beautiful, without trying,
They're her too.

But everyone loves the stars for being beautiful, for texturing the night sky,
They're just pretty and that's what the people see.
I feel like sometimes only I see the city lights as beautiful,
Because they're purposeful,
Because they are there for the people, not to be attractive,
But to give, without asking in return.
Burning brightly, beautiful, useful and selfless, not adored by others like the stars are,
That's how I see her.

I wish I could bring the lights to her, all of them,
Light up her whole life, give her clarity in the darkness,
And offer a spectacle of beauty to surround her when the world seems dull.
She is my light, she guides me,
She is beautiful, always.


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