And even though it hurts the most to say I love you, I always will. In stolen moon light I sit writing something of hope and what could be happiness. My words are broken like my heart, my mind is cold like December. In fallen leaves I found love on an October evening in the middle of no where reading books of fairytales that never seemed to come true. I wrote Dad at the top of a paper I hoped to finish writing but, in reality I  don’t even know where to start. Where do I begin when love has no ending, where do I begin when once what was love is gone...