How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.
Directly, or indirectly, everything we write is for someone.
You’ll meet her. She’s very pretty, even though sometimes she’s sad for many days at a time. You’ll see, when she smiles, you’ll love her.
After you left me i took to my bed… I stayed there for months playing back every minute of our time together, watching it like I watched the movies, trying to make sense of the days we buried squandering love.
2 am is for the poets who
can’t sleep because their
minds are alive with words
for someone who’s not there.
For the alcoholics drinking
themselves into amnesia to
forget someone who left
2 am is not for the lovers
asleep in each other’s arms.
It is for the lonely, the ones
who are in love with the
loved but are not loved in
It bothers me that no one has the patience to deal with someone who is just sad.
The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said, and never explained.
The best thing about a picture is that it never changes, even when the people in it do.
She felt happy these days, yet there was always an undercurrent of sadness just below the surface.