…and after all, the wrong road always leads somewhere.

I love things that are old and beautiful and tell a story, even if it’s a sad one.

the ghost you chase, you never catch.

let your pain evaporate and burn into the sun. 
exhale the toxic fumes of self-doubt, 
the suffocating claws of tears.
 breathe; let your problems fade 
into the atmosphere”.

The time to make up your mind about people, is never.

All the lives I could live, all the people I will never know, never will be, they are everywhere. That is all that the world is.

Never trust a heart that is so bent it cant break.

And that night, the sky was full of little pieces of your eyes

I miss you because memory
is a kind editor.
The past is a long scroll and
in it is the story of us,
told with gentle metaphor, and
words that bring
you back and back, even as you
lie there, lying.

…once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.

I took your voice for granted, and in the end, that voice; it just echos memories, floating right back to me.

I write differently from what I speak, I speak differently from what I think, I think differently from the way I ought to think, and so it all proceeds into deepest darkness.

I am a contrast between silence and noise; of blood and snow.

A pain stabbed my heart as it did every time I saw a boy I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world.

… when someone blushes, doesn’t that mean “yes”?

A loving person lives in a loving world. A hostile person lives in a hostile world: everyone you meet is your mirror.

I know you’re in this room, I’m sure I heard you sigh, floating in between where our worlds collide.

What becomes of words when they never find the eyes they were written for?

Every word is changed when spoken.

I don’t want to judge
What’s in your heart
But if you’re no ready for love
How can you be ready for life ?

There’s a lot of things you should make back up plans for, but love isn’t one of them.

People disappeared, reappeared, made plans to go somewhere, and then lost each other, searched for each other, found each other a few feet away.

I was reading the dictionary. I thought it was a poem about everything.

Everytime you see a flood like that on the news you tell yourself: That’s it. That’s my heart.

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