Yellow, brown, gold, and red.
Colored leaves will soon be dead.

I have a golden locket,
That hangs around my neck,
It's heavy as weighted stone,
And I'm a nervous wreck.
I keep it with me through each day,
And through the passing cold,
I keep it close, next to my heart,
Although it has grown old.
I have this ****** and rusted locket,
Filled with ash and pain,
I don't know why I wear it still,
Don't ask me to explain.

I have never been in love with someone to the point where I felt compelled to be with them at random parts of the day for no reason at all.
I have never been so attracted to someone that seeing them just makes me want to tear off all their clothes and make love to them in the most passionate way possible.
I have never felt connected to someone else that when they are not around I feel incomplete.
I have never trusted anyone enough to marry them.
I have never been in someone’s presence with the feeling that they are staring straight into my soul.
I have never had the energy to fight for someone. If something was tearing us apart I just let it happen because I never cared enough to try to make things work.
I have never met someone worth starting a life with.
I have never been with someone who takes away my fear of commitment.
I have never been with someone who gives me the courage to be fearless.
I thought I was in love many times but I see now that I never was.
I haven’t met someone special worth missing, worth crying over years later.
I have yet to meet the person who will make mistakes with me and continue on with life with their hand in mine.

White out won't get rid of the boys you once loved or the girls that broke your heart.

Tearing out the pages where you wrote to that one person won't make the words disappear; your veins translated into ink to make the words so. You have these people in your blood.

People come and go but you can't pretend they did not stay for some time. You can't erase their shadows in your photographs. You can't erase their impact on you.

Out of sight out of mind- really? You want to kid yourself into that?

Remembering hurts but someday you may want the old letters and photographs because someday you will move on and be thankful that whiteout couldn't cover where you felt a part of yourself let go.

Retrospect reminds you why specks remain but not the whole person, and why that is okay.

I won't erase you if you don't erase me. I'm sorry for the times I tried, for the times I really did believe

That if we didn't have forever, then we had nothing at all. I read the letters with heart, and I'm so thankful I left them whole.

just the idea of you loving me
makes me love you
I wonder if that makes me a narcissist
or just someone who’s been lonely for a very very long time

Fourth cigarette in
And you still can’t burn away the haunting memories.
Drowning in five dollar drinks
His caring words burn my throat as the alcohol sinks deep.
Miles forbid our souls to meet
So my heart weeps rivers of unforgettable kisses.
I drunkenly call to see if he’s alright
But my feelings take over and intoxicate my self-control.

I can not stand up and cheer
it's your victory
but I can not show I care
in fact, I can not show my face

because

under the stars
twisting the grass through our fingers, our hands met
when we heard the crickets singing to their friends, our eyes met
and that night, my heart met yours

and since that time
the green grass
and the calls of the crickets
remind me

your heart pushed mine aside
when you called me only a 'friend'

so I can not stand tall
show my face, let you see me blush
I can only support you from afar
I'm only a friend

I felt large standing next to your tree
and your hands
and knees felt wet
beneath the leaves
and green from the grass
and this sun is diving
back down slowly
under earth and you're still here
in a backyard and the rays bear shining gold
reflections from your eyes
and hair and I wish this could last
longer but it is now and it's still and stopped
and the same. Because time is sometimes weird,
like this, and sometimes
subjective, like this,
and right now
I feel healthy
and I feel whole
and the skinny brown watch
wrapped around your wrist
hasn't ticked its hands,
in my eyes.

Keep your heart to yourself. Keep it under a glass display for others to look at, but never to hold. Tell them about the scars, tell them your stories, tell them how this is now just a museum for broken things. Be the cautionary tale for young people who look at each other and say, "That won't be us. Promise me that won't be us."