I miss you. I trust you. Ask me anything, and I won’t ever hesitate to tell you, I will give myself entirely. You already have me, I just don’t know what parts you want to see. My vulnerabilities are on display for you, point me out to anything and I can tell you its story.
I feel that more guarded than I initially thought, and I don’t want to be. Especially not for you.
Im so shy Ive lost sight of what to say.
I miss being with you, talking to you, and breathing you in.
You are all I think and feel, every minute of each day, and that alone makes me feel as if you’re with me. You’re in every thing I see, every advertisement, every ray of sunshine, every song is about you. In every feeling that arises out of my day, there is always an immediate urge to want to share it with you. A well-formed sentence, how I almost slipped on the snow this morning and rambunctiously laughed it off to myself, a cloud I liked. I imagine you with me, living each moment. I guess what I’m really trying to say, is that I really miss you and I hope to be in your arms again.
—  A

In our story I am the bad guy. And I know real life isn’t so black and white, but hear me out.

In our story I am the one who runs away with your heart and doesn’t look back. I am always running and you are always chasing. Maybe that’s what little thrill I can get out of life.

You knock on the door to my heart and I shut you out with a silence you don’t understand. Through the walls you can hear me sobbing violently but I keep telling you to go away and it drives you insane.

Yesterday I said I loved you with my downcast eyes. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say those words without feeling ill. And you held me against your chest and whispered ‘it’s okay,’ and I felt like such a disappointment.

I know you think I don’t trust you and maybe it’s true. My mind says, keep a bit of yourself back so when he leaves you won’t be lost forever. But maybe it doesn’t matter what I’ve told you because I am a pathological liar. In reality I think I’ve given you everything and that shakes me to the core.

Baby in our story you are the one who moves on and finds a girl who doesn’t write her thoughts into paper instead of admitting to having them. And in our story I am the bad guy. Please tell me that doesn’t make me a bad person.

—  S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #157  // I am not the girl you thought I was. I’m not even the girl I thought I was.
Why do you stay awake?
It’s not that I don’t want to sleep and dream and rest my eyes
I want to feel that sweet feeling
But my eyelids are refusing to close 
For fear of another nightmare of your embrace
Your eyes that shine bright
It’s four a.m and I’m still awake
And there’s no one else to blame
—  P.L

I’m sorry for January 25, 4:41PM. You tasted like eternity, and for a brief moment in history all of time and space pressed into my chest.

And the Universe said “I love you.”
And the Universe said “please light me on fire.”
And the Universe said “we are skin;

The friction of your flesh on mine feels like the sparks of a subway train on a one-way ticket to Home.”

I used to think that I could control the wind, you see -
I would sit in isolation, talking to breezes that passed me by,
Befriending the ghosts of ancient storms and
Commanding them enter into my ocean chest.

Your eyes are the black before a hurricane,
And the wind said “I love you.”
And the wind said “I will extinguish the flames.”
And the wind said nothing, but a gunshot echoes with each passing storm.

Loving you tastes like a suicide note jammed
Between my tongue and my heart.
Loving you is the smoking bullet I shot into the Sun.

And the Winter said “I love you.”
And the Winter said “let there be wind.”
And the Winter said “I remember the dates of phony subway tickets. You taste like a snowstorm in July.”

—  7-weeks//My Heart: a Subway Station in the Cold.
The thing that’s bothering you right now, the thing that is making your chest cave in and your eyes water is not worth losing your happiness over. It’s not worth staining your pillows over. Let it go. Set yourself free.
I’m scared
I’m scared of physical contact
Emotional connections
I’m scared of loosing you
I’m scared of loving you
I’m scared of feelings
I’m scared of you
I’m scared of the connection that we had
So I put it away
—  5am