hearts in words

If my heart beat could speak,

This time,

Are these words a talent or simply madness? Am I a good writer or just a broken-hearted girl? These words often seem so worthless when thousands read them, but not the one I wrote them for.

I think everything you love will ruin you a little. I've spent years giving away pieces of myself I can't get back. I know I've still got a few decades of good years to figure out this whole living thing, but sometimes I feel like the sands of time are filling the wrong end too quickly. I miss getting lost in the middle of the night on dimly lit streets, I yearn for long days of bad tv and singing songs I'll never remember the name of. I've given my heart in the name of love but the heart I got back was a lot more scarred than the one I gave. It's sad to think that this will happen to me more and more as the years go by. Because life gives you so many miracles, but as the hourglass fills, it has to take them back.

I miss the most simple of things. Like folding our laundry on a Thursday, making coffee with you on a Sunday. Kissing you every day of five years until one day you weren’t there to kiss.

Dandelions, post cards, lady birds and shooting stars. I’ve wished for you so many times but that does not bring you back.

Dandelions, post cards, lady birds and shooting stars. I've wished for you so many times but that does not bring you back.

You are a history I'd gladly let keep repeating but maybe it's better that I don't. Maybe it's better if you go.

I'm in love with your work.