When you try rescuing someone and discover they can't be reached, why would you ever throw that back in their face?

He looks out into the empty street, allowing me to sit in his car and just miss her. To miss her each time I pull in a breath of air. To miss her with a heart that feels so cold by itself, but warm when thoughts of her flow through me.

Rejection always hurts, but having it come from my best friend was the worst.

You can hear rumors. But you can't know them.

All you really have... is now.

That's what I love about poetry. The more abstract, the better. The stuff where you're not sure what the poet's talking about. You may have an idea, but you can't be sure. Not a hundred percent. Each word, specifically chosen, could have a million different meanings.

When you try rescuing someone and discover they can't be reached, why would you ever throw that back in their face?