“Please stop trying to make me the ghost of your past lover.”

There are so many beautiful people in this world. I’m mourning the fact that I won’t get to meet most of them.

Poetry is music for the lost.

I refuse to let age take away the magic I believed in as a child.

You do not have authority to hurt me anymore.

His lips touched mine and suddenly all the colors in the world hit me at full force.

The distance between us is long but my love covers all grounds.

I build my own walls yet I am not strong enough to tear them down.

I’m coming home but this time with softer edges.

I may not have been able to keep my heart, but I’ve kept my strength.

I wonder how many scars I would see if I cut you open to reveal all your truths.

It’s comforting to know that I can still make a home in the places we used to occupy.

Everything I want is in your hands. And yet you have nothing to give.

The battle between emotion and logic is most brutal.

Come sleep in my heart. Make a home of it there.

Before I met you, I had a lion within me.

Emotions are such complex concepts to understand.

I pressed the dress to my nose, and found what was left of your ghost. It was then that I remembered how to cry.

We commit vanishing acts when things get too close. We flirt like lovers and love like ghosts.

I had a playlist of his name. Of songs he would send me now and then. Now every song I hear is a ghost of him. A reminder that he is here. But he is not.

One time I stayed at a haunted motel. When I checked into my room, there was a sheet on the floor, and I thought it was a ghost that had passed out, so I kicked it.

I know people who believe in ghosts but don’t believe in themselves.

He disappeared like a ghost in the night but I kept looking for him in the shadows of the moonlight.

He treated her like a ghost, not wonder her memory haunted him long after she was gone.

I hold a trembling fire in my heart, to burn the ghosts of broken regrets.