How do you do it?
How do you forget, move on?
How to you forget spending so many sunrises with a person?
A person who forced you out of your shell?
A person who, first the first time in four years, seemed like they
    actually cared?
A person who for once made you feel like you could amount to
    something?
Like you didn't have to force yourself into this cookiecutter image?
How do you forget someone who would talk to you untill 2, 3, 4
    every night?
How do you forget the soft, warmness of their sweatpants when
    you were freezing?
Someone who would drive out in the middle of the night just to
    see you?
How do you forget the first person to actually chase you down and
    wrap themselves around you until your wrist stopped bleeding?

He says to me,

You make it really difficult to talk to you.

All I can respond with is,

*I know.

I know that you've been used and confused,
Believe me, I have too.
Are you afraid to be hurt?
Because I am as well.
But being near you while you're this distant,
It's like walking through hell.
I know what I want from you,
I've had far too long to mull it over.
All I need, love, is you, closer.
Are you afraid? Because I am too,
Though there's no denying,
I think I'm in love with you.

someone asked me today what it's like to be a writer and i can tell you this,
my mind exploded into galaxies and i wondered if they could see the twinkling stars in my eyes.
first, i looked into their eyes and saw a black hole, complete and total darkness. so i answered simple to start out with
"it is often quite hard. but for me, it's a way of life."
they didn't quite get it i could see, and asked another question
"oh, is it hard because you get writer's block sometimes?"
i almost let the meteors fly out of my mouth so they would be hit and crushed with the raw fact that being a writer is much, much more complicated than that.
"well yes, that can happen. and when it does it is a crippling feeling. but, it is much more complicated than that. you see, us writers, we not only feel things, but we absorb things. we let things take us over, and once this happens, our hands start to produce words onto paper that come deep within our soul, heart, and mind."
they looked puzzled, but when i looked into their eyes i could see a faint star that was starting to shine. i smiled at this.
"like... what kinds of things?" they asked,
"oh my, it can be something as complicated as love, life, the universe, darkness, pain. but on the other hand, it can be something as simple as leaves on the trees, the ocean, an apple that you just ate for lunch. and sometimes, it is putting those two things together to create something wonderful." i said as the comets were shooting through my fingertips.
i looked again into their eyes, and i began to see a cluster of stars, and that's when i knew i had them.

do my words have meaning
and depth
and importance
to you?
or
are they just a combination
of different letters
put together