Sometimes, things just don’t work out the way we plan. What’s the point in dwelling what could have been?
If you love me for what you see, only your eyes will be in love with me.
I think you were always meant to know me a little better than anyone else.
I want us to talk again-about all the things we would think about, yet never thought to say out loud to anyone else.
I know you and I are the same in that way–we bruise a little more easily than most.
Because losing someone isn’t an occasion or an event. It happens over and over again.
There hasn’t been another like you since.
All you had to say was, come in.
What you are feeling is not only completely valid but necessary–because it makes you so much more human.
Shouldn’t we be allowed to shape it in any way we choose?