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Sometimes the loneliest place to be is in love.

Lang Leav

There are days when the melancholy settles on you like a sudden change in weather. The kind of sadness that is intangible. Like the presence of an ache where you can’t pinpoint exactly where it hurts, you just know it does.
LANG LEAV

Change Day Hurt Kind Known Sadness Yourself
I have buried myself so deep in my words that sometimes I can’t tell if I am the person writing or the one hiding between the lines.
LANG LEAV

Bury Hide Myself Person Poem Word Writing
I was there in your forgetting, until I was forgot.
LANG LEAV

Forgetting Myself
We number our days and divide our seasons. We endlessly define what it is to be in love. When in truth, spring blurs into summer and always has, long before that line was ever drawn.
LANG LEAV

Day Definition Division Love Myself Summer
One day you meet someone and for some inexplicable reason, you feel more connected to this stranger than anyone else.
LANG LEAV

Connection Day Feeling Oneself Reason
We will remain unwritten through history, no X will mark us on the map; but in books of prose and poetry, you loved me once, in a paragraph.
LANG LEAV

Book History Literature Love Poem Remain Writing Yourself
That night, we talked the way old friends do, with candor and ease.
LANG LEAV

Friendship Night Talk
That’s the thing about happiness. It doesn’t require justification.
LANG LEAV

Happiness Justification
You said my sadness was like the sun, beautiful from a distance but it hurt you too much to come closer.
LANG LEAV

Beautiful Close Hurt Sadness Sun Yourself
If you love my heart and mind, then you would love me, for all that I’m. But if you don’t love my every flaw, then you mustn’t love me- not at all.
LANG LEAV

Flaw Heart Love Mindset Myself
That’s the thing about writers – on one hand everything is sacred to them, but, on the other, nothing really is.
LANG LEAV

Hands Oneself Sacred Writing
Sometimes I am caught between poetry and prose, like two lovers I can’t decide between. Prose says to me, let’s build something long and lasting. Poetry takes me by the hand, and whispers, come with me, let’s get lost for awhile.
LANG LEAV

Hands Lost Lover Myself Poetry
Whatever path you choose will take you to the same destination. The only thing that should guide you is your intuition.
LANG LEAV

Choice Destination Guide Intuition Path Yourself
A book travels for days, for years, sometimes for centuries to meet you at an exact point in time.
LANG LEAV

Book Point Reading Time Travel
I am already nostalgic for what we have, even with you still here.
LANG LEAV

Gratitude Myself Nostalgia Relationship Yourself
Why do you write? he asked. So I can take my love for you and give it to the world, I reply. Because you won’t take it from me.
LANG LEAV

Himself Love Myself World Writing

Sometimes the loneliest place to be is in love.

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Sometimes the loneliest place to be is in love.

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