I wanted to say "don't leave me," but I'm so tired of begging people to stay.

I had discovered that there was something more painful than falling in love with someone who hasn't fallen for you; hurting that person-hurting him and not being able to do anything about it.

Growing up she had become used to allowing men the ability to curve themselves into question marks around her and hold her desperately as if she were the answer. She had become afraid to admit that she is not.

And not one person would notice the grey parts of her until it was too late, because everyone falls for a pretty face.

She tasted of coffee and day old poetry.

This is how you love: you do it in all the wrong ways, because that is the only way we know how.