“You love me some days I’m honestly sure of it. You think I haven’t noticed and I’ll pretend I didn’t. You love me somedays and that’s okay with me.”

And you, you’ll always be the most brilliant mystery a masterpiece of october midnight hauntings my best dressed trauma at the evening masquerade.

What an absolute waste land loving you has become. Such a shame, to let it be any less.

Words lit low on kerosene pages, familiar comforts like asphyxiation.

Bad habits could’ve led me down so many worse paths than back to you.

Life won’t wait but you and I? we’re gonna live forever.

Thankyou for showing me not everything with love will leave.

Tomorrow will be the reminder that its all just a blur of oasis and vodka.

There’s a sincerely bittersweet truth in the way neither of us deserve me loving you.

Maybe the most perfect words I’ve ever heard, beauty and sadness, are these three. Not, I love you. But, Let it be.

There’s a destitute side, a breakdown in me. My subversive pursuit to finally be free.

All those questions that I was too afraid to ask? In the end I lay down cold welcoming the answers to tear me in half.

A hello from you can still bring me to my knees, set me free. More than any goodbye ever could.

Honesty, I don’t know how to love you less. Let alone not at all. I try my absolute best some days but this just makes me miss you more.

Its like you sat back and listened saw everything it would take you learnt how to hurt me perfectly and then could hardly wait.

I guess that’s the thing with forever you only get it once. So when you find yours in someone there’s not a thing you can do to forget and nobody else could ever come close.

They say what is lost can always be found in the last place you look but I wouldn’t be so sure that you’ll ever see this version of me again.

No burden is so heavy for a man to bear as a succession of happy days.

And I’m afraid, in this day and age, trust, which I count so, you know, I love loyalty. I love trust.

Every day in the mirror I watch death at work.

At the end of the day, if you feel like you’re a good person, and your intentions are good, then that’s all that matters.

I have a lot of money stashed away, but I do live my life from day to day.

We have become ninety-nine percent money mad. The method of living at home modestly and within our income, laying a little by systematically for the proverbial rainy day which is due to come, can almost be listed among the lost arts.

My only home are the daydreams I dream.

He that hath light within their own breast, may sit in the centre and enjoy bright day.