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For you might not have given me a book with an ending – but you did give me a short story, just with a few missing pages.

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You were the first boy I loved, but clearly not the last.

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You will always be my teenage love.

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She had meant everything to him, despite knowing that she could hardly say the same.

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I didn’t know how to love you and now I can’t figure out how to love anyone else. 

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I hope you find someone who can trust you and love you like I couldn’t.

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Because even though the person is long gone, it’s hard to forget the feeling. And maybe I’m not supposed to.

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A phoenix can rise again from ash, but I still don’t want to give you a second chance.

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It’s a 2 in the morning, and that tequila bottle standing in the middle of the table is almost empty.

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You have so many what ifs.