I love you. And when I say it, I mean it. It's not apologetic, or consolatory, or conditional.
When you said it to me I didn't know whether to cry relieved tears of joy or punch a wall. I'd almost rather smash my own hand then let you keep breaking my heart.
There are days when I'm okay with it all, and then there are days when I fall to pieces- and wish that you'd never kissed me, that you were just still the boy who'd look longingly in my direction for too long at parties. I can't remember the last time I ...
The hope was pleasant and peaceful, now there's just gray tumult. And, oh, it hurts and tires me so to be but sea-foam in your wake...