If you don’t imagine, nothing ever happens at all.
I know you’ll never love me but maybe you’ll stay for awhile.
How do we forgive ourselves for all the things we did not become?
In my memory, it doesn’t end. We just stay there, looking at each other, forever.
Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.
In my heart I love her all the time.
You have no idea what a charming memory you are to me.
When I’m with you, I don’t breathe quite right.
Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.