I swear she onced laughed
I swear she was never last
Love inside of a flask that I couldn't open
We didn't mean it
I hope God means us
I hope a higher power even exist
Where do I go when things don't really last forever?
Making myself by self destruction
Letting go, letting go
I'll feel peace when I get rid of the memories
I'll feel peace when I know it's okay for things to not have meaning
I don't feel the way I write sometimes
Music changes feelings
Feelings change the vibe
The vibe sets the tone
The tone sets the love
The love makes you see your own written future
What is destiny?
I couldn't stand being associated with what I was with a few months ago
I hope your vision is changing
For the better
Talking to the wind like writing these unsent love letters

you painted a beautiful sunset,
full of color and life,
and said it represented me.

you said i was art.

three months later,
you poured black over the canvas



(cjw)

I don't remember what the last thing you said to me was.
I don't remember what shirt you were wearing.
I don't remember if it was one of those days where your eyes looked green or grey.
I don't remember if you had gel in your hair that day.
I don't remember. But if I knew it was the last time I'd see you, I wouldn't have taken that day for granted.

Remember when it meant the world to you?

When
          We were one in a million
          And out of 7 billion, you chose me

When
          Everyone tried to tear us down,
          But we’d pack up our things and leave town

When
          We would stay up late at night
          To keep each other warm and wrap each other tight

When
          We would whisper secrets in our ears
          Just tell each other things we already knew

When
          You’d tell me you loved me
          And I would tell you that I loved you too

You may have forgotten, but I still remember—
I still remember when I thought love was true.

She fell in love with November,
for the way the sun shined down on
decaying leafs
and chilling temperatures danced upon the tips of her fingers,
providing her with a perfect balance between life and death.

She presented herself to the world in this manner,
always happy and bright, but never content,
as days carried on cracks in her skin led to trails of pieces on the ground.
Her eyes often flickered between a beautiful orange and a sickly brown.
Her heart, as much as it wanted to be warm was deafly cold.

She was a mystery.

And as December rolled in and the world froze over in darkness,
so did she.
The only light in her life was the moon.
how badly I wish she could've loved a month like June.