The Letter Ggwe understand gravitybut we dare not fathomthe emptinessof the human heart.desire (greed)pleasure (gluttony)fulfullment (gratification)all of this wehave declared good.but what is this good,except a shadowof what we cannot grasp?What is the source of true goodness?
The Letter Rrunlooked for dreams,that lead to the heavens.riddled words leftto confound and confuse.Risk (not The Game)that she will never see.reminders on notepaperthat i have not believedwhy can't i see her reality?
The Letter Nnnightsky dreams andnever spoken whispers:the many meaningsattached to peopleplacesthings.echoes of wisdomfound in the emptinessbetween the stars:beginnings of a definitionof who someone ought to be.Is there any power in a name?
SomedaysSomedays, I grow weary.Weary of hopelessness. Weary of emptiness.Weary of remembering.Tired of dreams about days that never happen.Somedays, I think I hear my heart beat,but I never feel the sound
Here We AreAnd here I stand again,whispering words I knowthat she will never hear:It's drowned out by ashriveling darkness of wordsso harsh and broken.When I speak of beauty,she hears shouts of emptiness.When I whisper love,she only finds hatred
The Letter Ppblack whispers againsta starry night sky,and secret wordsshared behind locked doors.hands held untiltrust is broken.what does it mean to promise?
The Letter IiA single letter,Yet surrounded inMystery.An I for an eye,And two eyes for me.Found everywhere,And nowhere.Lost in meaningsAnd words of presence.I think, therefore I am.What do I mean now?
daylight starsalways where you need to beglittering sunshine into winter woodsand breathing summer into autumn daysalways where i wish i werewaiting on a dawnlight never comes never comes never comesalways right here where my heartwisheswisheswishes she could bein the midst of daylightstars
The Letter Ssto say i am sacred impliessecurity through rules.sandswept dreams surviveon slippery shadows.sarcasm is the bulletthat slashed through my heart.but she uses words, not guns.so why do i still feel like a soldier?
i is less than three uyou've spent allthis time trying tosolve the equation of you+me,only to miss seeing thati
Reasonsi still remember quiet nights,and all the silly fights:who should share a secret first?wasted time decidingwhere to go and what to do.starlight cuddles,whispered struggles,and sunset puddles.i still rememberall those reasons i wish i could forget.
Lost Hearts - Collabdear journal,i know i haven't written anything to you in a long while. it's been a hard week and an even worse year. i hope you don't mind. i know you won't. it's just... i feel cold all over. i stopped bleeding ink when i get hurt. can you find my heart? yesterday, i think she drowned in the river.Dear boy with ice for blood,Please don't hate me, but I couldn't save her.It was a Sunday night and I was tired. We struggled near the pier. She was shaking and screaming, she told me it wasn't worth it, she told me you didn't love her anymore. Her hands tasted like fire and her eyes were glaciers, and I sizzled and fell to ash.I couldn't hold her back. I'm sorry.dear journal,don't tell me that! i need to believe that i can wake up and she'll be here. it's all that keeps my blood thawed enough to breathe. i wish.... i don't know. i never know what i want. it's not fair. maybe someday these words will bring he
What is Love?What is loveBut the baffledWords of the foolWho can't imagine?What is loveBut the wrongSided lookAt a broken world?What is loveExcept for holdingYour breath,Then drowning?What is loveBut a singleMoment whereIt all falls apart?This is love,When everything'sBroken, butWe're still here.This is love,That we haveNo recordOf all the pastThis is love,That we seeInto the heartAnd ask anyways.This is loveThat we danceOn the windsAnd sing with the dawnMaybe love isnothingBut maybe love iseverything
Words, Words, WordsWords, words, words..What a wonderful weapon,Says the little devilFloating beside our shoulders.What are these bones?They're not quite brittleWon't they ever hurt enoughBut hearts, warm heartsNow those, those areEasy to break, and twist,And tear so thatRipe blood drips everywhere.It is with words that we are broken,And with anger that we shatter.No amount of broken bonesCould ever hurt likeA broken heart
Just LettersBut I'm just letters,That you'll never see.I'm just words typedOn a blank screen,The shining bright whiteStaring back at me.Numbers dialing nowhereWon't reach me,And whispered "iloveyous"On the radio signalCan't reach intoThe Faraday cage thatI call my heart.Cause I'm just a deaf man,Lying on the backstreet,Hoping there is no oneMistaking me for dead:But you've knownThat's all I am inside.
maybe tomorrow, maybe tomorrowShe was cute, funny, and timid; sitting three rows behind him; never speaking; laughing at his innocent clumsiness. By the subtle glances he thought they exchanged, he knew she was something special. She captivated his sorrowed tongue, deleted the salt from his spellbound eyes, evaporated the polluted puddle careening in his train-wrecked past, and he didnt even know her name.You see, his previous infatuation wasted a year from his already-dwindling life, and his tolerance for heartache increased with every reminder of his infected memory. He tamed nostalgia with painkillers and poetry, remedied struggles with futures feigned optimism, but thats not what this story is about; no, this story is about him, her, and the mutual words they could have, should have, ought to, but never bothered to say.--He was dorky, self-conscious, and timid; sitting three rows in front of her; always dreaming; blushing at his casual embarras
to err is to learn is to love:i'll be your spelllcheck,if you keep making mistakesyou want me to fix.
i maybe should've told you.i maybe should've told you that a day hasn't gone by since january that i haven't thought about you. maybe i should've told you that when you stopped talking it also meant you stopped caring.maybe i should've told you about the time when i cried myself to sleep. maybe i should have told you that i really do feel strongly about you.maybe i didn't tell you that no one likes you but me. maybe i should tell you that i didn't care, because you often make me happy. maybe i forgot to tell you that sometimes i can't sleep at night because i'm too busy trying to forget remembering you.maybe i should tell you that i haven't breathed in a while. maybe i should tell you that this seems imaginary sometimes.i maybe forgot to tell you that i only care what you think. maybe i forgot to tell you that i once thought i loved you, but i'm not ready for that kind of commitment.maybe i should've told you that as naive and tainted as you are you enchant me. maybe i should say that you slowly killed me a
the end of forever.i don't know what to tell you.i could tell you that i'm sorry, but that wouldn't change that i didn't do anything wrong.i could tell you that i miss you, but that would just give you another opportunity to break my heart.i could tell you that you're being stupid and immature and selfish and hypocritical, but my opinion doesn't seem to matter anymore.because we both know that no matter what i do, no matter what i say, i'm still going to end up being the one crying myself to sleep at night while you're dreaming happily of chains being cut and being set free.i am sorry for something.i'm sorry i was such a burden to you, i'm sorry you had to force yourself for me. i'm sorry i smothered you. i'm sorry i couldn't accept you for you. i'm sorry i was constantly using the things i did for you against you and i'm sorry i kept showing you my thoughtless side instead of the one you really liked about me. just because you can accept my flaws doesn't mean that it's okay for me to have them.i
charlotte.it was halloween and charlotte was dressed as an obnoxious pumpkin, because her mother tries to make her a normal child. (and charlotte will whisper that normal children smash pumpkins, not wear them.)when charlotte was seven she decided that she would swim far out into old pine lake, and hold her breath until the colors in her eyes turned purple, like the bruises that slid down her thighs and touched apon her fragile feet. (and it was then that charlotte realized, that no one would be around to save her, and that just wasn't the point.)charlotte decides to be called "char" because it sounds like something silent, and distant. when you say a word so many times in a row it just doesn't sound the same anymore. (because charlotte wasn't the same,anymore.charlotte's first b
turn your back to the treesannie,i have no one else towrite to. i am ever-so-sorrybut bleeding words from betweencongealing eyelashes.today, sheunderstood me.God, i didn't even want tobend backher fingerstil they broke.annie, i just wanted to cry for her and the birch trees.i felt so scaredand was i stillalive? i wish shewere wrong but shecouldn't be, she knewbut he didn't,he didn't knowhow to feel.i just love him,annie, i do.i am sitting on a toadstool,that's howludicrous i feel.i catch fire to the woodswith the redradiating frommy cheeks.annie,i am so afraidall the time and i thinki have burnt myhouse to a pool ofcinders and kindle-wood.i forget the wateris boiling next to acloth until the tea kettlescreams and theceiling's oak-stainedbeams lie by my ankles.i am terrified withevery breath i take,anniebut i know inthe way my heartis still beating,i cannot bear to cryfor her anymore.love always.
Summer RainDancing on jade grass,Breathing in warm summer rain:Melting under sky
too beautiful.don't touch me. you can't touch me. i'm not here for you to rip apart, i've got things to live for you know. i've got hopes and dreams to change the world and if i die today they'll all be gone.and i don't care if everybody says that, if everybody thinks they're too good to die or has a family to feed. i'm different. i've got real things. special things. important things. i've got words to write and songs to sing and people that will never see the light without me. i know it. even though it seems like nobody really cares about me i know that they do. they're just too afraid to show it. they're just too proud. too unused to caring so deeply about a single person that they can actually concretely touch and isn't playing out of their speakers or pixelated on a screen. i'm real. i'm different. i'm special.so you can't kill me, you can't end my oh so important existence. you can't cut out my heart - what would i feel with, make others feel with? you can't take out my lungs - i need
a haiku for the broken ones.they call it a crushbecause they always seem tohurt the very most.
The Letter Aaa beginning of lettersadvanced into words.words arranged by phrasesattached to afterthoughtsof a sentencethis is the allowancecalled language.Why do we often ignore a beginning?