“You can love the way you look but still hate the way you are.”

Grief is a love preservative. My heart is a jar. My blood is the brine. The memory of you I steal inside.

Don’t ever think I am fragile because I asked you to handle me with care. It was not a plea, it was a warning. My strength keeps me safe but I can’t say the same for you.

In leaving me you turned of the future into a creature of the past.

These secrets sit sourly on my tongue. They linger the longer I go without a sip of your sweet elixir.

How exhausting it must be to fear death, when you can simply howl at the moon.

Your lips I see they without from me, but your eyes can’t keep a secret.

The fear that I would one day run out of things to say to you became the hope that soon I can sit in silence with you.

You met me whole and left me broken.

I don’t need you to myself in order to love you as my own.

Nothing is ever black and white but I’m sick and tired of all the grey area.

Find yourself a friend who makes you let go of secrets you didn’t know you were keeping.

You and I are the greatest love story ever untold.

I met you the way a fast car meets a tree. The slightest slip sent me careening into you. Half-conscious I remained at the scene, bones broken, blood spilled, fire burning.

The machines greed knows no limits.

Every single ounce of pain I have ever felt was a bend on the road that led me to you.

You are more than anything and everything that has happened to you.