Sometimes I see
People who no longer write,
I hope
They have healed,
Moved on,
And found some kind of closure,
Cause I think
Only the broken ones
Bleed poetry.

Maybe she was born
With a heart
Forever meant to pine
After things
Never meant to be...

If I loved you once,
some part of me
will always love you,
in one form or another,
No matter why
it never worked out
between us,
No matter who
we're with,
No matter how many miles
we're apart,
You will always have
a piece of me-
This is your gift.
This is my curse.

I hate the power
you hold over me
even when you're not there.
The way you affect me
in all the worst ways.
The way this love
consumes me
like no other feeling.
The way my own
heart betrays me
and chooses you,
every time.
But most of all -
I hate the way
I love you
when I know
I absolutely should not.

Of all the people
I have loved and lost
You are the one
I remember the most.

I still get the self-destructive urges
To reconnect with people
Who have walked away from me
In some unknown, inexplicable, wild hope
That they will be able to give back to me
The pieces of me they have taken with them,
Not realizing that not all things lost - are a loss.