The most tragic story isn't the one written by Shakespeare
or Hans Christian Andersen

It is not about Romeo, Juliet and their forbidden love, dying together

Nor a man, a mermaid and their impossibility to live for each other

It is about a writer and a reader:
Where the writer has written down, in every language, every realistic & imaginable word & emotion for the world
But the reader doesn't even have a chance to read them

The most tragic story is about the reader who can not read, and in the end, the writer who will not write

The most tragic happily ever after is where the reader and writer end each other

why do i feel like i'm always in love?
it's because you were, with me
there is a sense of familiarity in pretty things like flowers
because we once loved them, together
what am i looking for?
you're looking for me as i look for you
i feel so lonely all the time
i wish our paths would've aligned at the same time so i could be there
why do the spaces between my fingers feel empty?
i should be there holding your hand
this bed is too big for me
i wish i could wake up to you and watch the sunlight kiss your face
maybe in the morning i'll feel better
don't forget to have your cup of coffee, i know that makes you happy
i wish somebody would hold me
i'm not strong enough to reach out to you through the boundaries of time, space, and distance
i feel like i'll never be pretty enough for anyone
to me you are unreal, the most beautiful, and i wish i could tell you
this song is too beautiful to only be heard by me
i'm listening, i'm listening
i wish i had somebody to love who loved me just as much
*i wish we weren't separated by fate and time so i could be the one to love you

what if we could write on the stars
the way we write with paper and pen?
in that case,
i would be writing love letters every night
for a pretty soul too far away.
i'd point my finger at the sky
and trace it delicately,
then you would go outside at night
the evening breeze would whisper "look up!"
and the constellations would tell of the love
an admirer sends to you by cosmic delivery
across distances of time and reality,
from a world much different from yours.

Beyond the blurred and blank images
Or a thousand faces like yours
In my dreams I never lose myself
Finding my way to your door

I don't use a map or a compass
I don't need manmade directions
Because of your soul I follow a guide--
A light of constellations

Even if I can't see you
Even if I lose my sight
The heart can only truly see what the eyes don't:
That it's better to love you in the night

i suppose nature has not yet kissed
the moon rocks and space dust
on the surface of your home,
so if i flung some flowers to where you are,
would you notice this earth girl calling?
and would you, in return,
send me some space dust in a jar
so we could defy the laws of gravity
and let our love go beyond the stars?

i'll leave
                        pieces of
                                                           my
love                                                                               everywhere
                                                                ­                                                    like
                                                            peta­ls
            in                                                  ­                the                 wind
                            and                    i        ­                                                         hope
you              find                                        the­m                        and                
                  kn­ow                                   i                   wait                        
                                                    for you.

Read this to yourself. Read it silently.
Don't move your lips. Don't make a sound.
Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything.
What a wonderfully weird thing, huh?

NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD!
SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND!
DROWN EVERYTHING OUT.
Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper.

Now, read this next line with your best crochety- old-man voice:
"Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?"
Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that?
It sure wasn't yours!

How do you do that?
How?!
Must be magic.