Has anyone ever told you that you're beautiful?
Beneath that fake smile, and wishing gaze?
That you're so much better than they could ever be,
Just because you aren't them, and because 
Of the wonder I see,
When you don't think I'm looking, but I am.
When did you become a deva? A vision? My muse?
Why do you always laugh at me when I say these things?
Why do you always look amused?
You're always so bemused when you're around them.
Why are you lost, little boy? 
Who left you all alone?
You should stay with me, 
and bring your dark hair,
And your crooked smile. 
And the thousand other things,
That make you the most beautiful one alive.