You made me feel as though I was made of sunshine, then you closed your curtains.

You were red. You liked me cause I was blue. You touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky and you decided purple just wasn’t for you.

There is nothing so beautifully genuine as a broken hearted person’s love. For in giving it they are saying, “Yes, I have burned to smoke and ash for the ones I have loved. I have been devoured, slowly, then spat back out. And probability suggests you are likely to ruin me too. But here, have my heart. Take it. I’d like you to.

I don’t want to be the other half of your soul. I want to be the one who reminds you that you’re already whole.

It’s strange. I felt less lonely when I didn’t know you.

I tried to love you less. I couldn’t.