“You were consumed in running away from yourself, and I was just another way for you to get lost.”

Wanting you has been a thirst I have not been able to quench.

I lost myself willfully in half-forgotten madness, futilely for in the throes, I still remember you.

Shadows may haunt your steps, but you will keep walking.

Although my heart has broken a thousand times, it has never lost its capacity for love.

To be the water that engulfs your skin, oh, let me be the sea you drown in.

Her thoughts are poetry, sheer beauty to behold, pay attention when she gives you a glimpse.

And every breath without you is torture, but at least I can finally breathe again.

And I’m bruised but never broken.

There is a story to tell in even the mundane, and beauty in the most unsuspecting.

And you have fast become my weakness, even as you remain my source of strength.

To be looked at and not found wanting – how beautiful to be enough.

My skin holds echoes of you; in every line, you used to trace and empty space you used to fill.

I accepted all of you – except for the vital part, that couldn’t accept all of me.

And when I lie broken with my face pressed to the earth – I will look to the cloudless sky, and reach out for it once more.

In the pause between your breaths and the space between your heartbeats, I think I heard forever.

This heaviness inside my bones tells me, I still carry the weight of loving you.

Love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone.

Don’t matter how much money you got, there’s only two kinds of people: there’s saved people and there’s lost people.

It’s not songs that remind me of lost lovers. It’s poems.

I was never crippled until I lost hope.

By hating that person, you have lost something very sweet in yourself.

For time lost may not recovered be.

There’s a certain amount of traveling in a dream deferred.

It was a good place for getting lost in, a city no one ever knew, a city explored from the neutral heart outward, until after many years, it defined itself into a jumble of clearings separated by stretches of the unknown, through which the narrowest of paths had been cut.