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

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.

The more you push to get close to me, the more I’ll withdraw. You’ll never catch me. Not if I don’t want to be caught.

Put the memories away keep them safe especially the good (they cause the most pain)

Maybe the way you seem to feel safe with your arms in mine means I’m not all broken maybe there’s something good inside.

Romeo and Juliet have nothing on this story, all the places we will go, or down in drumroll glory.

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.

I fell accidentally like Alice into a whole world anew I found, When I fell accidentally in love always and ever with you.

I felt it shelter to speak to you.

I get really afraid of those little comforts, those things that make us feel like we did something great, because I’ve done nothing. I’ve done nothing. I mean that sincerely.

Sanity is a cozy lie.

Most people are afraid of change, but if you look at it as something you can always count on, then it can be a comfort.

Before anything great is really achieved, your comfort zone must be disturbed.

The bourgeois prefers comfort to pleasure, convenience to liberty, and a pleasant temperature to the deathly inner consuming fire.

There are people who are not wealthy because they want to be comfortable.

Comfort kills ambition. Get uncomfortable and get used to it in your pursuit of your goals and dreams.