“I haven’t cried in a while it feels like my tears have dried. But I miss you more than my eyes could ever cry.”

There is nothing like the four walls of your arms wrapping around me when a storm is near.

I told myself – You’ve got this, Even though I don’t have it at all.

I feel everything to the bottom of its depth maybe its a gift, its probably a curse.

The outer part of me so cold like an armor impenetrable. The words you throw at me ricochet and hit you in the heart.

Shades of black intertwined in my being I try to see in color but darkness is all I’m seeing.

I still remember the first time I saw you, your aura radiated nostalgia of a time where I wanted something so much more than I wanted air.

I take for granted how much I love sad songs when I’m happy I forget how much they hurt when I’m broken.

Late at night I’m awake thinking. I’m afraid of what I’d do to be able to taste you again.

I’d rather be shot by a bullet than to be cut by your words. I’ll die cold on the pavement before I lie in the casket of your assurances.

I will be more than I was yesterday, even if that means I can’t take you with me.

I got what I wanted then I threw it away why do I mess up the only things that want to stay.

A smile made of promises and a heart made of broken chains. She was a beautiful contradiction.

I found peace in my loneliness. I found solace in the quiet. I found love in my reflection.

And as you left my heart cried out then suddenly I was thankful that the cries of the heart can only be felt and not heard.

I want you to love me for me so that all my flaws stitch together and make me whole.

And when she stopped letting him steal her light she shined brighter than every star in the night sky.

Don’t sweat, don’t cry, we don’t need no wings to fly.

When you cry I cry and when you hurt I hurt. And together we will try to hold back the floods to tears and despair and make it through the potholed street of life.

Organize, agitate, educate, must be our war cry.

Don’t expect me to cry for the wrong reasons.

Deep in earth my love is lying and I must weep alone.

If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don’t write, because our culture has no use for it.

Which is worse? the wolf who cries before eating the lamb or the wolf who does not.

Which is worse? the wolf who cries before eating the lamb or the wolf who does not.