You were you,and I was I;we were twobefore our time.I was yoursbefore I knew,and you have always been mine too.

Before I fellin love with words,with setting skies and singing birds—it was you I fellin love with first.

Love is a game of tic-tac-toe,constantly waitingfor the next x or o.

What was it like to lose him?" Asked Sorrow. There was a long pause before I responded:It was like hearing every goodbye ever said tome—said all at once.

Hands are no longer hands. They are caresses. Mouths are no longer mouths. They are kisses. My name is no longer a name, it is a call. And love is no longer love — love is you.

Like time suspended, a wound unmended-- you and I. We had no ending, no said goodbye; For all my life, I'll wonder why.

A StrangerThere is a love I reminisce,Like a seedI've never sown.Or lips that im yet to kiss,and eyesnot met my own.Hands that wrap around my wrists,and armsthat feel like home.I wonder how it is I miss,these thingsI've never known.

She lends her pen,to thoughts of him,that flow from it,in her solitary.For she is his poet,And he is her poetry.

Letting him goThere is a particular kind of suffering to be experienced when you love something greater than yourself. A tender sacrifice. Like the pained silence felt in the lost song of a mermaid; or the bent and broken feet of a dancing ballerina. It is in every considered step I am taking in the opposite direction of you.