You went and broke our lives. You are so much worse than a cheater. You killed something. And you killed it when its back was turned.

We all contain mysteries, especially when seen from the inside.

I never know what you really want, if I can give it to you, or if I’m already too late.

anchor, v.: I drift, I drift, I drift, you stay.

There is no word for the recipient of the love. There is only a word for the giver. There is the assumption that lovers come in pairs.

For I have never wanted a lover, but I have always wanted to love, and to be loved.

It’s as simple as that. Simple and complicated, as most true things are.