My heart’s been broken in a thousand pieces I’ve lived and died a thousand times And in each of those lifetimes With all of those pieces I chose you…A million times.
Walking away ends a battle in the heart of one, and starts a war in the soul of another.
As I read you I fell in love with the holes between your words and I loved you most on the days you could not love yourself.
I keep breaking things, as if to see what’s going on inside of me.
If God could transcribe my heart, it’d still read “I love you”.
There is still peace left in the world,and only those with beauty in their soul,care enough to be it.
Depression is like waking up and opening the blinds because your plants need sunlight, but it’s 8p.m. It’s always 8p.m and you keep apologizing for it.
Why can’t we breathe now, In this moment we have breath?
My life is a room filled with love letters and goodbye notes.
This empty shell holds nothing but the echoes of what was.
I have these knives in my chest that can’t become words.
You are alone,So alone,You speak back to silence.People call it loneliness,You call it solitude,Different words,Meaning the same pain.
You ask me to write you a poem,I pen you an empty ocean,You run away.You ask me who I am,I paint you a breaking sky,You weep in the rain.
You are afraid to let anyone in, but you still leave the door open, hoping someone good will shut the door behind him and throw away the keys.
We colour the world,Not with the darkness of our pasts, But with the rainbow of our hope.
I paint the darkness and the silence, You see them as stars and poetry.
I have always been a fire, and everyone I loved walked away as ashes, until I met a phoenix who was born to love flames.
I write to forget the days that broke me into a million nights.
I live for the moments that won’t die in my memory.
I write these words to touch you,My love, In places my hands can only dream of.
And on the days I couldn’t breathe, I learned to paint air.
The ones who love your dark are the only light you’ll ever need.
I don’t know where to go from here, So I crawl back inside me,AndTurn the lights off.
I hope my forgiveness reminds you,Of the part you forgot to break in me.
Remembering to live by forgetting all the places where I died.
The things you let go will someday teach you how to fly.
Nos·tal·gia (n):A feeling that lingers long after the taste is gone.
The sun loved me again when it saw that the stars would not abandon me.
Every avalanche was once a lonely snowflake, every flood was once an aching raindrop.
The pen, a double-edged mystery: cuts the writer, heals the reader.
The hell in your soul will always find heaven in mine.
Your words were music to me tonight, but you weren’t mine to listen to.
Everything I try to hide ends up screaming from a mountaintop.
I write to create a sky where the moon can touch the sun and not get burned.
I am the poet, you are the poem; I hold the pen, you are the words, love is the ink, silence is the blank page.
Reading a stranger’s words and finding yourself in them.
Half the world is wandering, the other half is lost.
I know where nowhere is, I know where nowhere leads, it’s the place you go when you have nothing left to lose but you.
You never needed wings to fly,You only needed love.
Promises are born broken, to fix them you keep them..
Would you still read me when I become a blank page.
I keep running away, As if from something, As if to something. I keep running away, As if from myself, As if to myself.