Love came.
Love left.
It was romantic.
It was ugly.
He gave her a rose.
That was half dead and bought for $2.99.
She took it and smiled.
She allowed herself.
He kissed her.*
She kissed him, knowing it would be the last time he saw her.

My battery is low.
Can you find my charger?
You can find it between my coffee and my laptop.
Behind my depression and anxiety.
Underneath those people I still call friends even though I haven't seen them or a year.
And for those friends that I saw last week,
It feels like a year since I've spoken to them.
My storage is full of memories that aren't even mine, words I can't repeat, songs I don't even listen to.
I know I need to update my software, update to a better version of myself.
But until I can do that, I need to find my charger.

When she told me how she felt,
I felt the same.
I don't know if we'll be friends forever.
But I know because of you I'm not afraid to keep going.
Because of you, I'm not afraid to keep singing to the birds.
Because I know, that when I'm with you,
You'll gladly sing along.

A memory is like a movie that plays back,
Over and over.
The definition of memory is an event that has past.
One that you still remember.
So if I remember every word,
Every story our tears told,
Then my name is memory.
Nice to meet you.

Across time,
Across space,
Never again,
Will I see your face.

Across the galaxies,
Through the stars,
Do you remember,
When it was ours?

Of course you do,
Never forget,
That cold afternoon,
When we first met.