“Perhaps we were meant to end so this heart of mine learns how to love itself again.”

Those who broke you were once the glue that held your pieces together.

Have I known it was going to end this way; I would’ve kept some love for myself, & chose me over you.

You’re a creation of my own heart, moving swiftly in between my words; masking every thought. feeding on every emotion & leaving traces of emptiness in a soul full of longing.

Your mistakes don’t define you, what you choose to do to fix them does.

There is an empty place in my heart where i’ll grow a garden using the love you’ve planted.

Seek the love that you deserve & only then will you learn the value of self-worth.

How will we learn to fly if we never allow ourselves to fall?

Sometimes in the act of moving on you relive pain everyday until there’s nothing left to feel anymore.

They say love comes in waves; yours is the only ocean I’m willing to drown in.

I’m stuck reliving old memories. moving aimlessly from one memory to another, in hopes of finding solitude; a serenity I never got to experience.

We’re a creation of words, constantly looking for acceptance in places we don’t belong.

To grow up is to experience all sorts of heartaches & still manage to see the beauty in every pain.

To love you is to drown every day & still crave the taste of the ocean.

Just like flowers; we shed, only to learn how to prosper again.

I was left with a fragile heart yet, I learned to embrace all my broken pieces.

You were a beautiful dream but dreams dont last long.

Tear me apart cut open my flesh, until I bleed out just like the rest of the mess.

Give me unexpected whether it is good or bad, I learn from it all. As you build or break me in the end, I will stand tall.

I’m a drunk poet; and I guess maybe I sipped too much of what I couldn’t buy of her.

Love with your mouth shut, help without breaking your ass or publicizing it: keep cool, but care.

People leave because staying requires effort.

The broken worlds we hide inside; that’s how we start to die!

I can feel the dust of her skin in my skin; and I think maybe that means these bones of mine have grown weary of crying too.

Heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy.