There are all sorts of experiences that we can’t really put a name to. Words are like nets - we hope they’ll cover what we mean, but we know they can’t possibly hold that much joy, or grief, or wonder.

I couldn’t believe
you were capable 
of stealing all the
bright from my life.

The scars on your wrist

match the ones on

my heart, and I guess

that means we were

made for each other.

And I can miss you

until it hurts, and I can

let the distance cover me

in new scars.

I spent my life wishing
on falling stars when
I should’ve been busy
wishing on you.
I would take them all
back - the stars, the
birthday candles, the
late night wishes at
11:11 - if it meant that
my wish for you
would come true.

I fell in love with you on a 
Wednesday, and since then
it’s been my favorite day
of the week.

I heard once that
every time a heart breaks

an angel loses its wings.

Maybe it’s not a coincidence

that I can’t fly.

For some reason
I still haven’t stopped
loving you.And though you’llnever know it,I think I always will.

i can feel my lungs
and i can hear my heart
but you can’t see me
and you can’t see it
so does that mean
it’s not real?

I could tell you
the story of the girl
who fell in love
at the wrong time
with the wrong person
and how it ruined her. But you were never
one for stories, were you?

I still love you like moons love the planets they circle around."


John Reynolds. Trouble with Words (oil pen on canvas; 15 x 15 cm). 2009.
(via 1301PE Gallery, L.A.)

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