‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said.
‘I know,’ she replied. ‘It’s okay.’
‘I used to think I could help you see, that if I tried hard enough you would, but now I know that all of this is futile wishing, wanting for something that isn’t there. Did you know that wishing on a shooting star is pointless? By the time you see it and make your wish it’s gone, in a blink of an eye there’s nothing. That’s what this is, too. The hollow burnt out embers of what might have been, what could have been, but was not to be.
So please, don’t say anything. The only thing worse than putting your all into something and getting nothing back, is getting false wisps of hope. The beginnings of strings that you hold onto so tightly, only to see them fade away in front of your eyes.’
Your words clung to my skin like ink smudging a clean page and I scrubbed my skin for five days straight but the scent of your clothes remained wherever I went.
Your words echoed round my brain and all I could think about was the way you left and how you weren’t really leaving at all because how can something leave that was never really there?
Your words found me in stale coffee and morning breath and I ripped the t-shirt you gave me on our first date but still I slept with the shredded pieces under my pillow.
I want to hold your hand and I want to make you smile. I want to take you somewhere we can be just us for a while.
I want to hear your darkest secrets, fears and dreams. I want to show you things aren’t always as bad as they seem.
Most of all I want you to be happy and I want you to feel free, and I guess I don’t mind if that’s when you’re not with me.
Writers are always up in the middle of the night searching for the right combination of words to string together like a melody with chords. So forgive me if I disturb your sleep but I honestly hope you understand when I press a handwritten letter into your hand, or sleepily mumble poetry under my breath when I think you’re lost to sleep.
Writers are always searching for their muse. That one person that when they see them, they can’t resist taking out some paper and scribbling furiously. The person that they just have to think about in order to get inspiration. The person that despite what ever happens between them, they will always be so grateful to, for helping them along the way.
Writers are difficult people to be with, they come and go like British weather but they’ll always come back to you in the end. Once you’ve entered the heart of a writer, you’ll never truly leave. They’ll write about you after you cease to speak and remember you for far longer. They’ll try to find the perfect words to sum up this feeling but they know there are no perfect words. It’s the emotion poured into them and the belief in them that makes it magical. So they’ll write about you. And they won’t stop until they’re satisfied that you believe it. And they’ll keep trying much longer than that.
Some things are far easily expressed on paper than by voice.
Lonely girl don’t you understand? All you ever want is in the palm of your hand.
Lovely boy, tell me don’t you see, it’s far too easy to live happily.
Boy and girl, take each other’s hand, tell her how you feel or she’ll misunderstand.
Close your eyes and slowly count to three, the skies are calling your name out to me.
So I’ll go home, sleep alone and think of you more than you will ever know.
wake up and smell the coffee
i miss you so i trace the same patterns
on my skin
as you did
two nights ago
but the distance between the two
and the difference between the two stretches out
you are so far from home now
your scent seeps through my skin
as i huddle further in my…
all too often I seem apathetic pushing people away when all I want is to be held close closer than… http://wp.me/s2M2dO-918
all too often I seem apathetic
pushing people away
when all I want is to be held close
closer than ever.
I place people on a sky high pedestal
then swiftly knock it down
I am the architect of my own disaster
an arsonist wondering why the sky is…
maybe people aren’t bad and they’re not to blame perhaps it is down to bad timing… http://wp.me/s2M2dO-912
maybe people aren’t bad
and they’re not to blame
it is down to
I guess in the end what it comes down to isn’t who you’ve known the longest or who was… http://wp.me/s2M2dO-865
I guess in the end what it comes down to
isn’t who you’ve known the longest
or who was by your side til the end
who made you feel something
who changed your perspective
who you think about late at night when you can’t sleep
when you’re restless…