What was once a stranger became something, then faded into nothing.

"If I could, I'd pull your strings for one more dance but I can't"

Can I be the poem, not the poet?

I heard a little love is better than none.

They say magnets do attract each other. I guess we're the type of magnet that repels each other. We have the same poles, broken in our own ways, and there is always a gap in between.

And never touching.

Drowning, wondering if I can keep swimming against the current.

In the confusion of my thoughts, I can't even tell what is the truth and what is a lie anymore.