“We will always be an open ending, a beautiful perhaps.”

Your hands don’t feel like home anymore and it’s breaking my heart.

We are all just wanting bones and stardust skin trying to find our way home.

I am sad about the things I did to make you want me.

She built her castle at rock bottom.

I am terrified that I am destined for almost.

I am messy when I am in pain.

I dream of all the places we never made it to.

There is something extraordinary in this space between our skin.

In another life, you kept your word, and forever’s still ours for the taking.

I am not proud of the things I did when I was hurting.

How can I be homesick for a life I haven’t lived?

You were a beautiful chapter, but not my last.

It was an adventure, wasn’t it? You and I.

Mortgages, marriage, and kids are not life’s only meaningful milestones.

She had a smile that took me to church every damn night.

How sad it is that you have become something I need to recover from.

He says your poems whisper too loudly of ugly truths. He forgets he authors the endings.

Even though we tried we still ended up broken shattered, scattered, glass.

Your endless soul is your superpower.

The game of science is, in principle, without end.

Wish them the very best and let them walk away.

I have emptied myself of a heavy burden today lifted it out of my body and placed it down its not the end but it’s a beginning.

There is beauty in endings, for they are simply our new beginnings.

Trick me into believing that the world is ending learned things aren’t breaking they’re simply bending now, I can finally do some mending.