“If trees looked at fallen leaves and gave up, we would have no forests.”

My happy poems will be flowers on a grave. You will see a garden in all its bloom. But underneath the earth. I lay.

To my heart, you’re my home.

You can break me into pieces. And all million of me will love you still.

I miss people I have never met. Conversations I have never had. Streets I’ve never walked. And love I have never made.

Even if it’s for a little time. Birds build homes too.

Oh darling, if you won’t be yourself who will?

Some people are sunshine.

Please tell your sons. It’s okay to cry. Tears don’t make them any less of a boy.

I hope when you lie under the night skies, you’re a vision for the stars.

The woods in the wild need no tending to.

I was so busy loving you. I didn’t notice you were leaving.

In a room full of people. I hope I have the courage to always be me.

How I wish I could hold you a little longer, and more. And forever.

I do, so often, wish you were here. But more often I wish that you were wishing to be here.

You can walk in and out. I have built no doors.

The flowers you don’t water, will never bloom.

The chilly morning breeze wakes me this whiff of fall is so welcoming, my soul craves the changing leaves along with the toasty seasonal drinks while I am wrapped in my blanket basking in warm, sweet dreams.

People leave because staying requires effort.

The hardest part of leaving is to make it look so easy… isn’t that the unfortunate fuckin truth.

I leave before being left. I decide.

Love is the force that leaves you colorless.

Being famous used to just defeat me. I wouldn’t leave my house because I was worried about someone being like, ‘Oh, are you Mac Miller?’ and then the rest of the night I couldn’t be myself.

When a deep love leaves, deep sadness takes residence.

Most people experience both tragedy and joy in varying proportions. Any philosophy which leaves out either cannot be considered to be comprehensive.