My Biggest Regret Will Always Be Not Hitting You That Night. Not Kissing You That Night. Not Fighting

I liked the way you let me break my own heart. I think I always knew I was safe to let you see that side of me. To see the broke down girl in the corner crying on her birthday. Because you’d always be there. But I know now that doesn’t always mean you’ll be in my life. We loved in the world of writers, we wrote each other into our stories and left them for the world to see. I will never be able to unravel you from those words, and why would I want to? In those stories lives a love so strong that it blew up so many lives. A love filled with sacrifice and two people finding their way back to each other over and over again. In those stories lives a love worth remembering. I used to compare us to the great love on the big screen, I think I was looking at the wrong ones. We found each other and burned too brightly this time around. But something in me can’t believe we won’t meet again and next time, we’ll get it right.

Because no matter how many goodbyes we’ve had, none have felt like forever.

You were the first and last person to hold my heart with all of its pieces.

The words don't come easy anymore.

Peter Pan once told me "never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting"

The more time that passes the more it feels like our sentences really ended with goodbye.

I always thought that we were chapters of the same book. But I'm starting to think I'm a fantasy while you find your home in nonfiction.

The amount of time apart is creeping slowly up to the amount of time spent together, and it terrifies me.

Pretty soon I'll be the lost boy you forgot you tucked into bed.

Somewhere, there’s a version of us that survived.

Every once in a while, I break my own heart to let the memory of you wash over me for just a few moments. The feeling of being loved by you was the most amazing and terrifying feeling in the world and for some reason, I can never let it go.

I let myself forget you, but never long enough for it to stick. Your smell. Your lips. The look on your face or the sound of your tired voice on the phone. It’s never too far from my mind, no matter how many times I’ve tried.

No matter time or distance, I can’t write without the thought of you. Reliving the moments of us are the only way for the words to make any sense. I knew you took a piece of me when you left, I guess I never realized it was the part of me that wanted to be a writer. The part of me that could feel my soul spilling out so effortlessly into words to express the feelings I didnt even quite understand. When I live inside of those memories I could make anyone fall in love with a version of you that I write out in hopes to expel these feelings that never seem to go away forever. But when I lock those memories up the words are gone. I wrote so goddamn much about you I don’t think I know how to write about anything else

Tell me every terrible thing you ever did and let me love you anyway.

Sade Andria Zabala, WAR SONGS (via wnq-writers)

Couple years flashin' by

And I'm doin' okay

In the back of my mind

All I hear is your name

I bet you're happy and that's fine

But I regret just one thing

I never got to change your mind

Halsey

“We've had problems that we grow through”

I can still see his face as if he was standing here in front of me. The happiness, the sadness, the look that he had when he realized that he always wanted me wrapped in his sweatshirt. He looked at me like i was the answer to all of life's questions. He held me like i was the only thing he'd save in a house fire. And he loved me like there was nothing else that mattered in the world. And he fuckin terrified me, if i wasn't that important to myself how could i matter that much to someone else? Running away never worked because he was always faster than i was. Staying felt like i was being swallowed whole into the belly of his love. So I stayed balanced with one foot planted in the earth and the other flat on the pavement. I think that my uncertainty caused his to hold me a little less tightly, he didn't hold my gaze as long, and he didn't let me stand on his feet when we danced anymore. And that scared me too. It was just as hard to lose him as it was to let him love me.  “are we destined to burn or are we going to last the night?” I didn't realize that the roots that tangled around my ankle ran so deep. Because when he decided to be the one to run I couldn't break free of my purgatory to chase him. I watching his shadow get swallowed by the distance and the wind blew his foot prints right out of my mind. By the time that some one helped break me free he was half way around the world sending postcards from all the places we talked about. They began with the sadness still in his eyes as he stood alone wishing i could be next to him. But I was too slow to catch him, always one step behind with his scent lingering in the air. Eventually the happiness began to creep back into the corners of his mouth as he wrote that he was doing okay and wished the same for me. His final postcard came and she was smiling and holding the hand that used to be mine. His smile was back and he told me I should come for a visit, so i stopped chasing the ghost that i was following around the world.  “I learned in love and death we don't decide”  I returned home hoping that he would come back to visit, if his arms would ever feel empty without me inside them. But then I got wrapped up in the cigarette smoke and the city lights. I tried to dance with all the broken people i could find. But none of them let me stand on their feet and they always wanted me to take the lead. I didn't see him sneak in the side door as I clumsily took control from another . Once I saw his face I stumbled, and as I hit the ground the roots wrapped back around me as if i had never broken free of them. Two hands reached to help me back up. One that grew the root from a seed and the other that wanted to burn down the whole damn forest. And I lie there stuck wanting to let the roots and vines wrap around my entire body, wanting to give the control back, or to run from both until my lungs collapsed. How do you choose between the hand of the devil and the hand of a demon? 

“Because this thing between us, it’s something that happens only once, and I’ve managed to almost lose it twice. I won’t risk it again.”

Only once