I think about all these words I’d want to say again and again because I could have never said them often enough.
In the end there wasn’t a difference.
When we aren’t really sure what we miss and we only know that something isn’t there that was before.
We wanted to dream, not sleep. But in the end we found that we couldn’t do either.
How can you lose things that don’t belong to you. That you never held. That you never had. Like love. And hope.
But at least with your hand in mine, I think I can manage the fall.
and I don’t want to be filled up.
I am not awake. You are not awake. And we have never been awake. And we are not going to awake up anytime soon.
When you are dislocated and out of time and what you know of space and presence bends and blurs at the edges, that is when you’ll see that ray of light that you’d been missing in your life.
So many things remind me of other places that I have been or should be in a past or future life, but never now.
You know you’ll have to cry these tears again, the ones that push up against your eyelids like the tide. There is always the moon and there is always tomorrow.
Why must you ask me to trust you? Why must you ask me to believe you?
We do this to ourself on purpose sometimes. And fall in love with the half hazed feeling of not being awake. To feel honest. To live a truth.
I wish you could see the entirety of everything and see yourself through my eyes and you’d know why my heart is this way, beating fast when I think of you. And why my eyes fill with tears when I hear your voice. And I lose my breath at the sight of your smile.
My words are hollow. Your words are hollow. Words are hollow but I bet we can fill them, together, if we really tried.
I know that we mean different things, but for a time, I wish we wouldn’t when we say I love you.
the addition of things
I’m surprised how things that we never thought could add together, do. So easily.