“I’ve experienced departure far too much to have the courage and call anyone my own.”

I’m breathing dreams like air, like there will never be enough of them to fill up the space in my lungs.

This year, I will let grief walk by my side, but I will lead the way.

The clock ticks by and all I could think of is that at least I’m a day closer to seeing you.

I taught myself the art of forgetfulness. If they were meant to be remembered, they would have stayed.

You say we’re nonsense together, but nothing makes more sense to me.

We preserve their places in our hearts depending on the way they leave them.

I got used to temporary things. I’m afraid I might not want anything permanent at all.

I want to fold you into my book, like a petal, so that you’d never leave.

No matter how astray the becoming might be, I’ll never search for the old in me.

Perhaps their voices never leave us and we spend our lives fumbling for quiet corners where we can hear them most.

Lay your head on mine and let me breathe you instead of air.

Refrain from giving pieces of yourself to those who get close, for people leave, and gifts that are given cannot be returned.

I’ve experienced departure far too much to have the courage and call anyone my own.

You’ll roam the world and come to realize: It’s all in you, to be free or not to be.

We reshape our memories into uglier versions because it’s hard to forget them while they’re still beautiful.

This is face blindness, but not really it. Among all the faces I see, I could only see yours.

I’m still searching for an angel with a broken wing. It’s not very easy to find them these days.

Men keep agreements when it is to the advantage of neither to break them.

Things aren’t right. If a burglar breaks into your home and you shoot him, he can sue you. For what, restraint of trade?

You have to grab life by the throat and squeeze before it grabs you by your neck and breaks it. Own your destiny.

Let’s just say I’m like a ship passing through storms, resting in ports now and then until it’s time to continue the journey. I once told a friend, `I’m just looking for an angel with a broken wing – one that couldn’t fly away.’

Losing her was plenty.

My heart beats for me, always has, but it waits for you.

I don’t play with a lot of finesse. I usually play like I’m breaking out of jail!