“What is my ribcage if not a prison for hope.”

We were dirt poor but we had each other. We didn’t need much to have a lot.

Always show kindness and love to others. Your words might be filling the empty places in someone else heart.

One quick sip of your memory I let it slip, and I go on without you.

If the scars on my heart were visible to the naked eye, maybe you’d think twice about inflicting more.

I am getting better at forgetting you. I am slowly but steadily learning the art of forgetting you.

Paper and pen petrify me, for they pierce right through me, drawing deep blue blood, leaving me utterly cold.

Spend time with people who get excited over even the smallest victories you earn.

I wonder if you were the poison or the antidote.