This is the part that scares me: to wake up in the middle of the night and feel a short stab of pain thinking how much I’ve been made to believe we have something special, before throwing it back to normal, as if it never took place. Just as how it’s easy for me to write your name again or let myself fall back to that same place. Have I been hallucinating? If not, tell me that it’s real, and it still is.
—  The Girl Who Writes In Ink

I loved how his eyes danced merrily,
And the gentle way he spoke;
The way he filled my aimless days,
With bitterness and hope.

I loved him as I fell to sleep,
And each morning as I woke;
I loved him with all my wayward heart-
Until the day it broke.