Making love with strangers is how you get hurt.

They always come back, but we don’t always answer.

I stopped writing in the obvious. I wrote how I saw it and if they don’t understand it, that’s fine.

I didn’t fear you. I feared us. I feared what could have been. I feared what could be. I feared the connection we had between each other. The toxicity because I could grasp the danger.

We grow apart because we grow in different stages and not all of our stages align.

If I had amnesia, I know I would fall in love with you all over again.

The fact that neither of us made sense was the beauty of it.

I think we might’ve met in a past life. You know, one of those you pass and think, wow you’re kind of beautiful. Just one of those.

I romanticized him until he was the perfect being. A soul so beautiful, but so immensely evil too.

To fall in love with pain is to fall in love with art.

Masochists hold on to broken people. Artists hold on to broken memories.

You didn’t understand the poem, but that was because it wasn’t for you. It was for me to understand the pain you put me through.

They’re scared of the other kind of love. The one which lacks hurt, but pains after awhile.

We live in a world of contrast and it’s sad we are among people who can’t seem to grasp the differences surrounding them.

Your intuition speaks on a higher plane than anything you’ll ever grasp.

I gave him my heart without thinking how it would feel if he returned it.

He said he liked my rhythm. I said I liked his heartbeat, and it was within that moment I knew our corners would never meet.

His whisper was the softest sound I ever knew, which seemed to bring the loudest heartbeat.

He grabbed my hand and that’s when I felt my heart beat for the very first time.

It’ll always be mine, but it’ll always be your heart.

I, too, was fiercely independent and thought I could make two equal four.

He was my entire world. He still is. My best friend, lover, partner in crime and my other soul. But he didn’t agree. A person isn’t supposed to be your entire world, he said. But he’s wrong. When you love yourself, you love others. When you find yourself, you find others. When you create your world and it’s thriving, you create others. And I built an entire world for him. For us. As he once built for me.

Stop making excuses for other people. For why they do certain things. For how they treat people or how they treat you. Giving excuse and justifcation gives defense which lets them act however they want. It allows them because you tolerated it. Don’t accept less than what you’re worth because you’re worth a lot.

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

Ran out of things to say, metaphors for you. Why the ocean’s clear instead of blue, why mountains in the distance had reminded me of you.

The beauty was nothing made sense. We were complex. We were intricate. We were designed with flaws which seemed to make everything perfect. But the defining word is seem. We don’t see what’s in front of us until it’s away from us. Until it’s behind us. Until it doesn’t bother us. Sometimes things aren’t perfect, yet they appear to be. Sometimes life doesn’t make sense until it does. But it always does.

We love certain people until death. We love others until we don’t. And sometimes we never fell in love in the first place. Falling in love isn’t necessary. Building character, life experience, development, and self-love: those are important. People get lost in the idea of affection for another person that they completely disregard themselves. That’s dangerous. Life isn’t about building something with someone. Life is about building something for yourself, but if someone comes along and they align, you share it with them.

We were as big as the ocean, but as fragile as an ego.

When is it too right but too wrong to be right?

You were a rhyme who mattered, a being who slipped all too often.

Not every relationship is meant to last. Some are there to create an impact on your life. Relationships that last three months are just as important as ones that last a lifetime.

I stopped writing in a way they would understand because it wasn’t for them or even him. It was for I to understand, for I to make sense, and for I to let go of it.

Life isn’t about building something with someone else. It’s about building something for a cause greater than yourself, but if someone comes along and they’re worthy enough, we let them build with us.

running with sharp knivesnever got me so farbut running with youseemed lovely

I loved you with texture. You loved with a softness. Texture brought detail, softness brought folds. Folds brought creases and creases had secrets.

How you react to a situation says more about you than you know.

The thing with breaking up is they leave, but the memories stay.

You’re not supposed to be in a relationship because it’s comfortable, it’s supposed to be because they make you a better person.

Silence is only awkward if one cannot feel a connection with the other.

I went into the new year loving myself in different ways, in a different possibility. It was then that I understood things I hadn’t. It was then that I understood people I hadn’t. We work in ways where sometimes we don’t align because our intersections lead us elsewhere. We find ourselves in rapids which lead to lightning, in beds that leave us homesick. We lust after the impetuous, in hopelessness, and sometimes in the reactive. We like things and people who are bad for us and that’s fine. It’s fine because it’s life. It happens. They exist. We exist. We all exist together in this world where nothing seems to make sense. Where everything is nothing but imaginary because it’s what we imagine it to be. Reality exists and it’s there, but life is what you make it. Your actions ask for it. How you exist is how you exist.We take every new year and give it a theme because we’re scared of how it could be. You change in the moment, not by years. You be to become and becoming is something which frightens people. Lead by example instead of letting the example lead you. Take this new year and find yourself in people who question it because questioning is how you gain from it.

Mountains in the distance remind me of you.

When you know, you know and it flows in your mind like waves. Coming forward as it pulls with the tide. It brings anxiety, terror, and it’s beyond anything plausible.

Don’t break my heart. Crush it. Destroy it. Let me wallow it until I feel hollow in it. I’ll bash in the pain. I’ll scream your name and then one day I suddenly won’t.

I loved you with different words than you knew and that seemed to scare you.

You can’t patch cracks on a glass house.

I love him. So much. To the point where you won’t understand. You don’t get it because I don’t get it. It’s there. It exists. It flows. It moves like rapids through my veins. Comes with bursts and occasionally fades with the day, but it’s always there. And when you find love like that, you don’t want to give it up. But sometimes you have to and sometimes you have to give it to someone else. That’s the hard part.

Loving him made me never want to love another human being.

I loved him to death. Then I came to realization with how arrogant he was and instead of falling out of love, I fell harder. Every passing day I fell a little harder, a little faster, and a little sadder. I became anxious, obsessive, hurt, and sad. But one morning I awoke to realize I fell out of it. I loved him. I still do. But I was in love with him until the death of the relationship. Now I just love him. From afar. From the knowledge. From the happiness an individual gave me.

Loving you was easy. Hating you was hard. Falling out was insane.

You were like fine wine, but cheap wine gets you drunk faster.

Looking back and wondering if it could have worked eventually hurts more than trying and failing.

The hard part wasn’t breaking up. The hard part is forcing myself to fall out of love with you.

Sticks and stones may break my bones but your words were always the hardest.

They say if the love is true, then it’s easy. But that’s false. Love is complicated. It’s sticky. It’s bliss and it’s a mix of emotions. It’s not easy.

Losing someone doesn’t scare me. Death doesn’t scare me. What scares me is the inability to no longer feel the touch of the one you love.

Your worth is what you allow it to be.

You don’t need them. It’s that simple. But for some reason it’s complex. It’s difficult. It’s dangerous. We can’t seem to fathom it.

His eyes said what I cannot see.

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.

It takes awhile, but eventually you realize they lost you. You didn’t lose them.

The silences weren’t awkward. For me at least. Because I was there in the moment with him.

The truth is: I was lost in him. I had gone from losing one of the most important people in my life and then losing someone I loved a month later. I wrapped myself in people, in lust, in the idea of love. I met him and I met a gentlemen, and when I found out who he truly was, I was still in love with the gentleman and justified all of his actions.

They leave to test the waters but fail to realize the waters are full of rapids.

The problem was I always took the blame. But he was wrong. But I thought me taking the blame could fix it.

We can’t be afraid to dismiss the unappreciative.

Instead of writing my rules, I followed his. And that’s when I knew it all went wrong.

Three years later and I’m still writing about you. I don’t know if that says more about you or I.

My mistakes were because I was selfless. I wanted to complete someone else, I didn’t think about completing myself.

Eventually I’ll stop writing about you and it’ll be bittersweet. Not because I’m not in love with you, but because I’ll just love you.

He said I wanted revenge, but if I wanted revenge I would’ve just broken his heart.

When someone says they love you, don’t believe it. Love is shown with actions and not words.

When you complete yourself is when you can complete someone else.

Relationships aren’t meant to be based upon example. If you go with the flow all will come.

I write the right. I do the left.

We do things because we want it, not because they’re good for us.

Sometimes others narcissism will take place of your happiness. Don’t let it happen.

If you’re in a relationship and find yourself constantly using “we” instead of “I” - stop. You are more than your relationship.

I remember things like dates down to minutes, what they smelled like, how they walked and how they tug their hands in their pockets. I twine myself in nostalgia of moments and not necessarily the people in them. I long for the idea of the past and occasionally forget the present. I find myself lost in memories, just looking to recreate the moment; forgetting the past is in the past and what we have is now.

I pushed him against his Jeep, looked him dead in the eye and kissed him. He asked if he could come up, and I just walked up the steps and said, not yet. That was the moment I knew I loved him.

Sometimes the anxiety takes over and I can’t seem to fathom the love he gives me.

All of your fears and thoughts were mine, you were so scared but it was beyond divine.

Some people you’re not meant to get over.

Old-fashioned dating still exists. You’re either dating the wrong people or you are the problem.

Maybe the problem isn’t everything and everyone around you, but what lies within you.

My months are spent preparing for the fall.

I think if we stop running towards broken arms, we’d all be just fine.

Don’t allow people to come in and out of your life when it only benefits them.

I never expected you to understand, but I did expect you to be there.

I loved you before all of this. When there was nothing. When there was only a single atom in the night sky.

He was beautiful and still is, we just couldn’t flow within the same constellation.

I became to understand you and all of you.

Some long for acceptance while others fear for anything ordinary.

I’m not thankful for being fucked over, I’m thankful for what I took from it. What I learned. What I taught myself in that particular moment. I'm grateful someone was able to take me there and let me be in that moment - not with them, but with myself. How my emotions could surrender to someone and make me feel everything I felt. It destroyed me, but I made my way through; and I look back years from, and I still love him, I do.

Arrogance will kill anything and everything you ever possibly have.

His love was a poison: soft and loveable, hideous yet touchable.

There was no unknown. He loved me and I loved him. There was no question, no doubt, no uncertainty, which perhaps caused us to lose ourselves indefinitely and enter a void so permanent. One where we stood with such confidence, which sounds lovely; but when you believe you have everything, you simply lose everything.

What if I were to wish upon a blood moon that I could have you standing here and I standing there? And when it happens to arrive in eighteen years, that you’ll be there, waiting for me like I’ll be waiting for you. As we did on the night where the moon shined down and I saw you standing in white with eyes that could ignite and a fire which couldn’t quite die.

The meaning of life is to die living it.

Wrote you a poem or two. You didn’t enjoy them, but I did for you.

I’m not looking for anything, but who knows. Lightning is weird.

I'm accustomed to toxicity and can’t control myself when I’m near it.

we were justlooking for what couldinstead of what waswhat should beinstead of how it was

We were one, even in the darkest corner.

I’ll never know if it was figuratively or literally when he said I drove him crazy.

I stumbled upon something and someone so magnificent I was truly blind to it.

Who knows if you’re alive anymore, but better yet, who knows if I’m even alive anymore?

I didn’t know what it was, who I was or who he was. I just knew what we could have become as one.

I don’t believe he deserves the thousands of poems I’ve written about him, but life doesn’t follow rules. We do things for people who don’t necessarily deserve it. But we liked it, we loved it and fell in love enough to write about it.

Occasionally we must disconnect to reconnect later on.

Give second chances, third chances, but not a fourth, a fifth, a sixth and so on. Appreciate yourself and understand your worth – know it takes time for people to change, to become better. But know what you can take and what you deserve.

I never expected to fall in love. I never expected to float or fall a thousand feet and create the crevice I called my life. But the thing with crevices, there’s always a top and always a bottom. And the feeling of appreciation when you look from the top and understand how fast it can all come crashing down — it’s more than beautiful and more than words could ever explain.

I believe we were right for each other, but not in that moment, which perhaps hindered any possibility of a future.

How can you be afraid to live yet scared to die?

I don’t remember his face or the place we ate. I only remember how he grabbed my hand and his voice when he spoke of his dad.

He said he was going to fix everything and I believed him. But I believed him before and again some. And I guess I got lost in the resentment of disbelief.

I loved you, I did. I believe I even sold myself a bit: on your love, my lust, your hair and just the way we stood there. How the air smelled of you, the way your shirt was cursed with blues. The way we danced by the ocean in front your mini-garden. The white fence, your loveliness and the heavenly kisses. It’ll always be the sheets, lying beside, holding your arm and kissing your hair in a loving stride.

You don’t get over it. You move past it. You move through it. You lose yourself to find it, and when found, it’s yours and no longer theirs.

Loving you was hard, wanting you was harder, but kissing your forehead was insanity.

I’m floating. I’m flowing. I’m loving, but I’m going.

You have to grow. You have to be. You have to love yourself unconditionally.

I see you in every passing moment.

I see more light than dark, but when I encounter dark I seem to get lost in it.

We must make tough decisions to see if it’s worth it in the end.

We grooved together with a rhythm so beautiful that I could feel the moment turned into poetry.

Sadness brings delicacy. Happiness brings subliminal terror.

People are so worried about being accepted that it causes them to lose themselves and in turn, lose moments.

It was perfect, but perfection is terrifying.

It didn’t affect him because he couldn’t fathom how I felt. He never saw how I held or how I dealt. And when a breeze hits, his first thought is never a scent. We worked in different ways and different places, which were divided by a constellation.

All of my bad ideas were always my best.

You can’t just be. You have to become.

I never said I love you because I knew he would understand it differently. I loved him, and I still do, but it was as a chapter. It wasn’t as a fairytale ending.

I fear falling in love and understanding why.

Sometimes relationships aren’t meant to be forever. We stumble upon one another to learn, to love, to appreciate and become who we’re supposed to be.

We were in ways I can’t seem to grasp. We moved like fluid, scattering our love throughout each other. We moved along, out of our eyes and through our veins. It was unintentionally and in turn, unconditionally.

They’re scared of death, but that’s like being afraid of life.

Some days I wonder if I stopped writing about him, if I’d love him a little less.

Maybe I hold on for too long, but maybe you don’t hold on for long enough?

But could words bethe end of me?

Sometimes he does talk back, but sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he’s not there; and from time to time I believe this was all nothing but imaginary.

As he stood in the darkness, his eyes glistened and that’s when I knew my light found its traction.

I danced as he twirled in and out of consciousness, and there we were, one in love and the other astray.

I’ve spent awhile trying to figure out where I’m going and the only thing I’ve come to realize is it doesn’t matter where, it’s how I get there.

Someone's therapist knows all about you.

When you look in the mirror, do you look at yourself or for yourself?

I love you, but there will be a dozen more too.

Sure, he might not have been perfect, but if I thought he was, isn’t that all that matters?

It was love. It was lust. It was just between us. The passion, the desire, the fire. The way we held on in so little time and his eyes when he saw me for the first time.

Sometimes love them more than you, but just make sure you love yourself too.

He was good and then really good and then bad and then really bad, but since he was good I got lost in the thought that I could fix it.

I write in seconds. I don’t stop. I don’t think. I simply write and when it comes, it flows and it makes sense because it’s genuine. I don’t understand thought-out poetry. It doesn’t seem real to me.

It wasn’t worth it, but at the time it was. And that’s all that mattered.

It was our first date and I asked what his favorite movie is. He asked if I’d judge him, but instead of judging him I just loved him.

People love the facade of a perfection relationship because perfection seems alluring. What they don’t realize is perfection is terrifying.

I loved everything to anything to everyone who surrounded him. He was perfect. A delusion with a sweet melancholy taste. He was crazy, but he was my crazy and inside, everything felt right.

You want to know what I loved about him? Everything. From a freckle on his ass down to his undying selfish need to always be right.

I don’t want content. I want slight fear. Anxiety. I want a longing devotion for a twist of absence. The feeling of complete isn’t quite pleasing.

I touched him. From brain to body, in ways I couldn’t quite understand. But he did and for him, that was all that mattered.

I worked with him in a way where there was no need to align. We felt and the feeling was simple but complex. It was the intensity in our grasp and when it was done, it was done.

I realized I loved him after everything went wrong so I wallowed in self-pity and prayed I could wake up.

I smell him in intervals, in varieties, in ways I don’t quite understand.

He wasn’t my boyfriend, but he was something. Someone who made a positive impact on my life regardless of the negative. He changed my perspective for the better and made me who I am in this very second. I appreciate, cherish, and thank him for it; and I will for this life and into any life that may come.

I like the chase, scavenging and how we unravel. Standing naked with all my pores at the door. Waiting for a response, a love, someone to call my home. Where my emotions graze the air and I’m lying half past gone.

He wasn’t a good person, but I painted him to be and since I painted it, I believed it.

I love you, but I’m more in love with myself and that’s the problem.

Hallucinations aren’t always out of the ordinary. How do we know we’re not hallucinating if everything seems plausible?

And I went into the new year loving myself a little less, but a little more where it actually mattered.

I knew I’d be troubled, but who knew awhile meant forever?

And sometimes being in love is not enough to make it work.

Broken boys are dangerous, but broken men are lovely.