You'll know my worth, by the time I forgot yours and I am reminded of mine;

You'll soon be in love with me, by the time I won't be with you, but I am, finally;


with myself.

Some things are meant to reach their end, even if they're a few steps away from happening.

No, I won't compare this sentence to you and me.

We are not meant  to be in the first page.
We can't meet at the end.
We can't happen.

We just can't.

I would, rather.

I'd rather have no's than fake yes'
I'd rather have lessons than regrets
I'd rather have "oh well's" than "what if's"
I'd rather have beginnings than endings.

Enough to say,
I'd rather have me to myself, waiting;
and you to yourself, healing;

Than the imposible "us" pretending;
to ourselves.

I understand her, her unsaid reasons,
her silence, her situation;

more than I could understand mine,  more than I could understand, me.

Sometimes, you meet people and you clearly remember how you met them, and it would be such a fine story you could tell anyone.

Yet sometimes you meet people, and you fall for them, and you can't even remember if it happened on a sunny or in a rainy day, or in a place or in a moment.  

All you know is you love them,
Without how and when,
or how long since then.

Beautifully, you just do.

It's time.

It's about time to move on when the traffic lights turned green,
It's about time to know what the word "change" actually mean
It's about time to let those sad songs play out of the playlist
It's about time to let the roses bloom without a lover's kiss.

Yes, it's time

It's about time to look at yourself at the mirror long enough,
To keep yourself away from staring at someone else's photograph.

I guess that's what love is.
It enlightens you. It hurts you. It changes you. It bloom you. It haunts you. It keeps you at night wondering. It keeps you staring far off at a distance. Yet most of all I guess that's what really love is.

Giving it all yet not asking for anything in return.