I loved you the same way that I learned how to ride a bike: Scared… but reckless.

I swear that when our lips touch, I can taste the next 60 years of my life.

I hate you, but I still I miss you, and a part of me still loves you.

You want to know how I got these scars. I swallowed my pride and then it crawled its way out of my mouth.

Never ever forget that you are a constellation and I have owned a telescope since the day I was born.

Aren't we all waiting to be read by someone, praying that they'll tell us that we make sense?