“You say we’re nonsense together, but nothing makes more sense to me.”

I run from my thoughts of you and meet them in my dreams.

I’m breathing dreams like air, like there will never be enough of them to fill up the space in my lungs.

This year, I will let grief walk by my side, but I will lead the way.

I’ve experienced departure far too much to have the courage and call anyone my own.

The clock ticks by and all I could think of is that at least I’m a day closer to seeing you.

I taught myself the art of forgetfulness. If they were meant to be remembered, they would have stayed.

We preserve their places in our hearts depending on the way they leave them.

I got used to temporary things. I’m afraid I might not want anything permanent at all.

I want to fold you into my book, like a petal, so that you’d never leave.

No matter how astray the becoming might be, I’ll never search for the old in me.

Perhaps their voices never leave us and we spend our lives fumbling for quiet corners where we can hear them most.

Lay your head on mine and let me breathe you instead of air.

Refrain from giving pieces of yourself to those who get close, for people leave, and gifts that are given cannot be returned.

I’ve experienced departure far too much to have the courage and call anyone my own.

You’ll roam the world and come to realize: It’s all in you, to be free or not to be.

We reshape our memories into uglier versions because it’s hard to forget them while they’re still beautiful.

People leave because staying requires effort.

The broken worlds we hide inside; that’s how we start to die!

I can feel the dust of her skin in my skin; and I think maybe that means these bones of mine have grown weary of crying too.

Heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy.

I don’t know what my future holds but its not your hand.

I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me.

I feel like I have always played within the rules. I would never break the rules.

I’m wearying to escape into that glorious world, and to be always there; not seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart; but really with it, and in it.