But that’s what you do when you’re young,“ she says, “you make promises you have no hope of keeping and wonder why it hurts when the reality you’ve fashioned falls apart.

“It doesn’t matter how realistic you think you’re being, because when you’re that young you’ve barely lived. And in any case, what is reality to a dreamer who has the world at their feet?”

He left her quietly, with a silencer in his gun. He didn’t even have the decency to leave a mess. The spills were cleaned up with a worn out mop and the mop was burned. And just like that they were forgotten. In the wink of an eye, they were gone.

“I hope you find happiness,“ he said quietly. He didn’t even say goodbye. He didn’t even have the nerve to stay, or to glance up, or to watch her cry.

You are doing so well and you can’t even see it.

And suddenly I do not blame him for loving her anymore. She is beautiful, and when she looks up and sees him, her expression is kind. She is intelligent and her hair is sleek. Her hands are delicate and as she slips them into his, she smiles genuinely and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Suddenly I do not blame him for falling in love with her. I just understand. And I cannot bring myself to blame her either. I just smile.

If you said you missed me,” she says, “and I told you I missed you too, do you think we could do it over?”

“We could relearn each other’s names and I could tell you about my childhood. You could get bored of my stories all over again and I could get mad like I always used to.”

“And I’m not saying we’d work.” She murmurs, “I know that we probably won’t.”

“But logic doesn’t mean I don’t miss you,” she says. “And right now I don’t give a damn about what logic has to say. Just tell me you miss me and I swear I’ll come running. Tell me you miss me and we can fall all over again.”

“If one day you wake up and you no longer care about me,” she says, “say so over our morning coffee and I will let you leave.”

“I will not ask you why. I will not ask you to stay one more night. I will give you a small smile to say that it is okay and that people lose feelings for all sorts of reasons and that I will survive.”

“So if it comes to it,” she says, “just say so. You should stay because you want to. You should leave if you need.”

I tell you, if one wants to be active, one must not be afraid of going wrong, must not be afraid of making mistakes now and then. Many people think that they will become good just by doing no harm – but that’s a lie, and you yourself used to call it that. That way lies stagnation, mediocrity.

The ship is safest when it is in port, but that’s not what ships were built for.

I don’t have a set personality. It’s like one night I’m bathing under the moonlight and the next night I’m dancing with the devil. I go through so many phases that I swear I’m the moon. I don’t have a set look or set direction, I’m just a collaboration of everything I’ve ever seen or felt. I fall in love with a person’s eyes or an animal’s innocence, and I become that. I guess the easiest way to explain it is that like a snake, I’ve shed my skin too many times to count–I have died more than I have lived and so I fill myself with little pieces of humanity, until my masterpiece is complete.Until I become the artist.

I don’t think I’ll ever run out of words for you. I’ll keep having to apologize to everyone I love after. I want to be stronger than how much I loved you. I want to be more than who I was when I let you take everything from me. God, I loved you. God, I always will. It’s different now but I can feel it changing inside of me. I can feel it bending and never breaking and sometimes I wish it just would. I have nothing for you anymore but that doesn’t mean you don’t still have parts of me. I hope it stops hurting one day but I know better. I still cry about everyone I’ve loved. 

The old me would have died for you.
And she did.
The dragon she kept locked up in her ribs
Turned into the lamb you sacrificed.
The sinner became a servant,
Moved from standing tall to bended knee,
And the acid that left her lips
Became butterfly wing kisses on hands that wouldn’t hold her.

The new me has learned to live for herself.

I wonder if you think he loves me the way I deserve.
I wonder if you think anyone but you ever could. 

It’s time to admit the things I am afraid of admitting.

I know it now, that I’m easy to love.
I know it much deeper that I am easier to leave.
I don’t know how to give less than all of me, and sometimes it’s more than you ask for.
Sometimes I leave you overflowing.

I don’t know how to love weakly
And I don’t know how to leave quietly.
I hope it always feels like a thunderstorm when I go.
I hope you feel it all the way down to your bones.

I should have loved you deeper than I did.
I should have given you more than a text message hook up and a phone call break up.
I should have loved you like you deserved.
Maybe I would have if you loved me first.

And to the girl with the short brown hair and big hazel eyes,
The things I write about you don’t start off about you.
You just find your way into my words sometimes,
And suddenly I’m writing your flesh on paper.
Sorry I’m too late but I think I could’ve loved you.
Maybe that’s why it feels like you’ve already broken my heart once.

I’m not who I was before and I think that means I don’t know who I am anymore.
I’m trying to figure it out.

Sorry I held someone else’s hand.
It had been a while since I felt something other than cold,
But I held on too long and his warmth burned right through my bones.
I thought your ice could heal it
But your breeze was always just a little too far. 

Hands (119/?)