Not because I’m afraid of what comes next
But because I’m afraid of leaving behind what I love
And finding joy in something new.
I never want to betray what’s dear to me.
I never want to be a bad person.
I never escape the feeling that I’m not enough.
I’m nowhere close
And I can’t help but feel that I’m a thousand-pound weight
Pulling you down to the ocean floor with me.
But maybe they'd rather be the side character than the hero.
Let the dragon live.
This life is about love, not anger.
Yes, a sword may lay beside my nightstand,
But a pen lies on my desk.
I suppose it is time for me to ask the age-old question:
Which is mightier?
The gunshot?
Or the keystroke?
My solution is neither:
To make something, you first have to ruin something else.
When I put ink to paper,
Sure, a beautiful world pops out of it,
But it lies on the grave of silent perfection.
All I ask is that you smile.
I only get so many days to love you,
Don’t overthink it, dear,
I just want you happy.
Don’t smile for me, Smile because you feel it.
Don’t smile for me, Smile for you.
You tell me that you l♡ve me
And in the ides of doubt, you ask if the care is reciprocated.
Of course it is;
I wouldn’t be able to tell you these things if it wasn’t.
Of course I see the beauty in the world
It’s what we call our home.
I l♡ve you like I l♡ve my favorite book;
You make me happy,
And I’m a better person because I found you.
I know for a fact that the moment we part
The sky will rain, and flood the earth,
And never stop until the end of days.
The wind will howl
And earth would be engulfed
In a fit of emotions not fit for anyone
As pure as you or me.
The sky will sob because it lost a connection
It was never meant to.
I tell my friends “I’m broken; please fix me”
But they’re not therapists.
We expect fun, not emotional connections.
I am foolish;
A smarter person would get a point across with fewer words,
But I am one of many.
"A garden is like the self. It has so many layers and winding paths, real or imagined, that it can never be known, completely, even by the most intimate of friends."
"Having imagination, it takes you an hour to write a paragraph that, if you were unimaginative, would take you only a minute. Or you might not write the paragraph at all."