I've never been good with words

I won't build you a castle with broken phrases and incomplete sentences, I couldn't defend your honor with an unsure voice and trembling lips

I can't make flowers bloom with clumsy confessions of love and the moon will never weep over my attempts at romance

I'm afraid I'll never be able to look you in the eye and declare my undying devotion for you to the world

I've never been good with words

But with my hands I could construct a grand mansion, and offer you comfort and security with my gentle caresses

I'll plant flowers in your garden that will grow to be magnificent, while the sun and rain gives them sustenance

My kisses would allow you to see the stars, the universe clinging to every sweet gasp that slips through your soft lips

I won't be the one to write you poems and sing your praises, but with my actions I will convey exactly how I feel, I'll let everyone know just how much you mean to me

There was only a bittersweet silence in the confines of what once was a lively home as our love came to an end. Quiet, unmoving, almost as if we hadn't anticipated that this day would come.

We stood there, eyes downcast and shoulders heaving with painful breath after breath, neither one of us attempting to utter a single word. But what could we have said, then, that would make this pain dull into an unnoticeable ache? What difference would it make, in the long run?

Words couldn't be of any use to us now. Not when we had abused them, used them to gain the upper hand in our selfish, sadistic games months prior to this very day. A gentle but lethal poison that seeped into our bones, slowly killing us from the inside out. Words hurt us then, so surely they wouldn't save us now.

Gathering the strength to move was almost impossible, but being weak wasn't an option anymore. It was time for me, for us, to be strong. I didn't hate you, even when you caused me so much sorrow and took away the last ounce of light I had ever had in this life. I didn't hate you, because I know that this was never a one-sided play. I had hurt you just as badly, ripping you apart time and time again in blinding fits of jealousy.

One step. Two. We both walked forward, steps unsure and afraid, tentative smiles spreading across our soft lips. It was finally time. We reached each other, sable eyes meeting for the first time in a long time, and for once I found no shred of hatred or pity in sight. The kiss, the last kiss we'd ever give the other tasted bitter, and yet I couldn't bring myself to care, much. It was perfect, a kiss that helped lift away the blackened veil of hurt that had been bestowed upon me tonight.

Goodbye.

Gripping the last of my possessions, knuckles turning white while I tried to still my trembling hands, the last words were exchanged. I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned, walking away from my home, and from you.

I felt radiant, as my pace quickened and I neared my old truck, its rusted exterior breathing new life into me. A surge of power and happiness flowed through me then, and I hoped that you could feel it as well.

Driving away from that place without a single glance backwards made this taste so much sweeter. Years of heartbreak and torture could never have prepared me for this feeling of liberation. Beautiful and refreshing.

We had finally found our freedom, and nothing would ever taste as sweet.

Throwing my best wishes out into the wind, hoping you'd catch them, the first laugh of many bubbled out of me, and I drove further away.

Deeper into the loving embrace of Reprise.

If I could go back to the day I first laid eyes on you, if I could erase your very image from the deepest parts of my being, I'd do it in a heartbeat. You couldn't begin to know what you do to me, the crippling pain that I feel when reality actually hits. And it hits so hard. I don't want to have to face this. You don't know me, you'll never know me. And if we ever so happen to meet it'll be a fleeting glance lost in a sea of other gazes. You'll never know me as intimately as I'd like, and boy, does that hurt.

You're perfect you know. To me at least. You make my days seem a little less miserable and even with all that you've been through it didn't **** you. It couldn't break your spirit. Its what inspires me. But see, the thing is, I'm not strong enough. I'm not powerful enough. I'm not enough. I can't be like you. I can't shake this. It isn't as bad anymore, I'm a big girl now. So Don't worry about me, not that you'd ever know what I'm going through anyway. How could you?

How many times have you heard this? A lot I bet. Thousands of times. Words can't be that unique can they? Millions of ways to phrase the exact. Same. Thought. I want to be special. I want to be remembered and so loved that the darkness can't seep into my bones anymore. They've taken all they can from me. I don't want to say I love you. In fact I wish that I could hate you. Strip every bit of humanity from your being and magnify your flaws. I want to be able to despise you, but in some way, the thought of leaving you completely behind is horrifying. I can't, I won't.

If anything its getting worse with each passing day. Every thought I have is tinged with you. I think of you the most, your joy, your tears, your raw passion that fills up an entire stadium and rocks the very foundation that was barely keeping me upright to begin with. Your voice mesmerized me from the very beginning and **** if I don't resent you for it. You're all I've ever wanted, you make me feel protected even when there are a million miles and faces between us. How is it possible, to love someone so much?

My heart beats to the rhythms you create, the tempo carrying me away from everything that has ever caused me harm, away from the harshness of this life. It keeps me safe from everyone. Everyone but you. I know that you'd never hurt me, or anyone else for that matter intentionally. And that revelation alone has caused my resentment for you to double, while the love that I have for you has tripled.

There is a war waging inside of me, it feels as though I am tearing myself apart limb from limb, it scares me. I'm scared that soon, there will be nothing left of me, nothing left to give. There is only thing that will remain inside of me, the only constant in this blurry haze of love, longing and doubt. I'm afraid that I'll succumb to these emotions. All of these caused by one beautiful, perfect, terrifying person.

You