True love is being afraid of yourself
It’s holding the door open and slamming it closed
Riding a thin line like it’s a railing and leaning back
True passion is apathy
The only way to touch a butterfly is to fall asleep
Better yet, let it sit on the flowers of your grave
A beautiful silence of sorts
The worst thing you can do is speak
The real romantics are practicing anything else
Grabbing the truth and storing it away
Being there in title only