I said your name five times too many because I was searching to see if you came when I needed you.

Time never touched you. It touched me and then I seemed to regret everything. Your hair in my face, eyes in my mind, a darkness I found in you. But you don’t regret. You hold within. You feel in memory because love lost is still a love once had. You remember passion, conversations over dinner, moments interwoven before each other. We die to live, not die to cry over memories which don’t last our expected timeframe.

And I wonder if the moment I die will know it’s the moment I die.

People take moments as if it’s their grand finale without the realization they’ll have a dozen other moments in their life better than the previous.

It wasn’t good. It was good in the beginning and I held on to that.

One day he’ll realize he is and was wrong. But that’s for him to figure out. You can’t change people or make them realize things they don’t want to see.

I was nineteen. You had your lips on my neck and whispers in my ear. You drove me crazy. But I mistook crazy for absolute happiness.

This is who I am and who’ve I’ve been. The only difference is you’re just now realizing it.

It never truly mattered. None of it. Neither of us. It was one out of billion moments and I took it for more than it was; that’s why we’re always so brokenhearted.