How lucky I am
To have someone
Who makes
Saying goodbye
So hard

Sometimes the masks we wear
Aren’t the ones on our faces
But the ones on our heart

Lucky for me
He always had the habit
Of working his way in

I’m drowning in a sea
That’s as big as your heart

She hung there. Suspense thick in the air as she clung by her fingertips. Figures hazily rushing towards her, their cries muffled by the roar of the irate sea beneath her. Lashes fluttered, eyes teary as the wind whipped about her loosening her grip further. Her fingers went slack. Stinging and discolored after hanging onto the serrated edge of the cliff for far too long. As she fell, hair lashing about her, limbs limp, she gave in. For even she knew, the ocean could not be sated. It would take what it wants and leave behind nothing but bitter memories of what once was. Acknowledging this brought acceptance. After all, who was she to refuse the turbulent tides wishes? The waves reached up towards her, similar to cold harsh hands grasping her body and pulling her further and further in. Even the diminishing sunlight was not allowed where she was headed. It brought an odd sort of comfort, knowing that at least she could catch a glimpse of Poseidon’s palace before she went. What a fool she was to think something so breathtaking could never be so chilling and ferocious.

It was the wind that brought her to him.
She was the wind itself.
Playful, mischievous, coming and going whenever it wanted.
and just like the wind
She was impossible
To pin down

There's a time
And place for hope
And this
Isn't it

I wish you could trust
In my love for you
Without me
Having to
Prove it
Every
Sec
on
d

You were the glue that held us-
That held everything together
You kept together
These fragile paper hearts
So when you left
Everything


                 U
                    N
                        R
                      A
                   V
                 E
                   L
                     E
                       D
                       .
                      .
                    .
                  .
                   .
                    .
                     .
                       .

we are naught but a passage in history
to be swept away at the turn of the page

Those who challenge the sun
Will only burn in its glory

The sky isn’t the only thing crying tonight