How can the word love, the word life, even fit in the mouth?

When people fall in love, they burst into flames.

I always imagined music trapped inside my clarinet, not trapped inside of me. But what if music is what escapes when a heart breaks?

I heard this expression once: Each time someone dies, a library burns. I'm watching it burn right to the ground.

Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.

What kind of world is this? And what do you do about it? What do you do when the worst thing that can happen actually happens?

I can't shove the dark out of my way.