Sometimes I find myself thinking maybe the problem was always me.
Me and my imperfections.
It was always me.
Because I look at you and I think "How can someone like him be in love with someone like me?"
Because I look at you and then I look at me and the only thing that I see is the perfection inside your eyes.
And you smile and say "You are everything to me" it's then when my demons come back to play with my mind.
There's always the doubt "Does he love me or he's playing with my heart?"
Because with you no one can tell which is the truth.
How someone as wonderful as you, can love someone like me.