UntitledOctober 15th1:21 A.M.I don't know where to begin.I don't know what to do.1:26 A.M.Have you lost as much sleep as I have?Are you tired too?1:39 A.M.I fell asleep last night with your letters by my side.I never gave up on you.1:42 A.M.Was it wrong of me to think I could keep you?1:44 A.M.I always thought this feeling would be mine alone.1:46 A.M.You're everything to me.I'm nothing you.It's plain and simple, really.1:55 A.M.They said you weren't coming back.I didn't want to believe them, I wanted to hear it from you.2:06 A.M.Are you still here?2:07 A.M.I can't find you.2:11 A.M.I thought I lost you somewhere among the twistsAnd the turnsAnd the dead ends.But you were never really there at all.2:16 A.M.So I'll burn all my bridges and leave this all behind.I'll erase every smile and take back every sigh.2:29 A.M.I won't stop until I can breathe you in again.2:38 A.M.This is it.This is what being helpless feels like.And I don't like it one bit.2:56 A.M.
I Miss YouThe closest I get is in my dreams,so I am eager for the day's end.Nothing's worth anything unless you are here.So I hurry and say goodnight. This isn't as desperate as it seems. While on memory I do depend; I know I can live without you near. But I'll hurry and say goodnight. They tell me it's time for me to move on, but what does that even mean? I refuse to forget the love that we shared, so I hurry and say goodnight. It may not be right, but who are they to tell me it's wrong? Maybe I don't know what I need. But this distance between us just isn't fair. My every day is your eternal night.
Inked MelodiesSometimes, he pretended that his fingertips were soaked in ink and he wrote. He wrote on every single thing he touched. On walls, desks and even the air he touched. He didn't write about anything in particular. Sometimes he wrote about people who run their whole lives trying to reach something not quite clear for them only to find out they were actually running towards their own death. Other times, he wrote about love and how some people spend their days searching for true love till they fall, not in love rather because their knees just couldn't hold them any longer. However, most of the time, he wrote about his dreams, thoughts and life. When people asked him why his wrist was always clinched as if he was holding an invisible pen, he just smiled and said "so that people wouldn't forget me". No one understood him.'You don't know it yet, but someday everything I wrote would shine through the walls. Someday everything I wrote would come to life and light the way to those who are l