“the thing about liking someone, is that anybody else can like them too.
and it kinda sucks when you know you’re only an option.”
A.M. {and even more when it's not you}
“i realize now, that loving him was neither beautiful nor poetic; it was knowingly walking through hell every day and losing myself there.”
- a.m. {trying to love someone who is too broken to be fixed}
“it wasn’t until you smiled that my stomach twitched with a feeling i knew all too well, and suddenly all i could think was, “oh crap.””
- A.M. {why did it have to be you?}
“how do you expect me to remember how to breathe when you’re looking at me like that?”
- A.M. {you}
my heart clenches every time i read a poem he dedicates to the beautiful rose girl
whilst i sit here with broken, ink stained fingers, continuously writing about a boy who will never write a sentence for the plain daisy girl
- is it love or envy
a.r.
little did he know he had captured the heart of a girl who fell for the words he was writing to someone else
- oh heart, why this one
a.r.
“Your eyes are far too pretty to be wet by those who didn’t realize what they had.”
- a.m. {they don’t deserve you}
“it's happening again.
my eyes are searching the room for you, without even meaning to.
the twinge in my heart when a day passes and i didn't get to hear your voice.
i feel it creeping up my neck, when our eyes lock and neither of us dares to look away.
the ache i get at the end of the day when i regret not having the guts to talk to you.
it's happening again,
but how will it end this time?”
A.M. {it's just a crush, it's just a crush, it's just a crush}
I’d love nothing more than to hold your heart in my hands, to finally have something good in my life. But I can’t. For I’m too afraid that with one touch, your light will disappear and you’ll fade away; Because I’ve learned that everything I love always leaves me broken, in the dark.
A.R.
“i'm growing real tired of pretending i'm not in love with you.”
A.M. {can you see me?}
let’s hide under the covers of stolen glances and goofy faces,
the uncontrollable laughter and obvious admiration,
while we endlessly argue the fact that we are not in love
- to my ‘almost’
a.r.