I wrote and thought, erased and tried. Because sometimes, being a poet hurts. But then I looked at you, and right away, I knew I'd found the exact right words.
there are nights like this when i kept on staring the cracks at the ceiling and wonder how on earth we keep justifying all the bullets fired at us just because we love the one pulling the trigger
I dont know why. I guess I'm not that bulletproofed. Potd. Sept. 23