“I knew i was losing you, But when you tossed me into the mail box it finally hit me- I was losing me.”

The last time you backstabbed me I grew a backbone. I should thank you.

I’m not sure if i’m to blame for all my relationship failures. But when i look at the wreckage I am the only commonality.

I should have known the moment your lips met mine that we were having an affair with borrowed time.

There was no way to save her. Believe me i wanted to. But how could I, when I could barely save myself.

I was only ten the first time I remember getting stabbed. My agony pierced the air with a sickening scream.

My wells have run dry, but not because i miss you any less, I finally accept that this is life.

I should have known when I started to fall in love, It was never meant to last long.

I am an emotional equation, continually miscalculation, escalation, you should be elated!

You’ve retracted your rays of warmth. You’ve pulled the clouds to cover sunlight. I think everyone is growing more concerned as the days keep passing and you’re still absent.

What started as a friendly fire quickly turned into assassination. What did i do to jump to number one in your hit list?

These words crash over and threaten to destroy me. I cannot find the stars so far beneath these waves of insecurity and mistrust, their light has seemed to vanish.

Have I been buried alive by chronic pain? I can taste the dirt as they put me in the earth, thick on my lips like the honey that drips down my lips.

Be proud of a body that bares the burden of being buried only to bloom.

Speak to me again, so I’m writing another poem i’ll never send.

I’d rather suffer in silence than be subjected to deafening stares. I feel like I’m in an abusive relationship with my body, no one can see the bruises.

Don’t you know that shedding your pain only makes it reverberate.

You forget about it whether it was 15-2 or 3-2. It’s still a loss. It doesn’t matter what the score was if we win tomorrow.

It is stupid to grieve for the loss of a girl friend: you might never have met her, so you can do without her.

First I lost weight, then I lost my voice, and now I’ve lost Onassis.

Every time there are losses, there are choices to be made. You choose to live your losses as passages to anger, blame, hatred, depression and resentment, or you choose to let these losses be passages to something new, something wider, and deeper.

You can’t truly heal from a loss until you allow yourself to really FEEL the loss.

If I was left with even less, but had him, then I’d still have everything.

Loss teaches us that life is fragile and love is worth the chase.

There’s no great loss without some small gain.