flowers grow in dead places

spaces, between me and you, between the bones where the flowers grow. i am waiting for them to bloom and i am waiting for the end.

ophelia

You sent me a letter with a picture of a boat, as if you knew I'd like to sail away. But I have lost the sea, I am surrounded by concrete and the only water here drips from the sky.

i am not

I hold secrets in my heart and revel in their company. I don't want this secret. But time has passed and now it is too late to tell. I just wish I could hear you say "I love you" and everything would be alright again.

here i am

I'm counting days like its the only thing I know how to do. Waiting for one day, two days to turn into four months. But so many raindrops, empty nights, and hard conversations lie in between, I will not be the same person at the end of it.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry

I was wrong. Let's run away. We will, road trip across the States. I want to go to the South and you want to see Joshua Tree. My life is not over, it's just beginning. The past will recede like the lines on the highway and we will be happy, deliriously happy.

a new day

The rain falls on London, as it always does, bothering no one but me. But I am happy here, happier than I am at home, and I dread returning. He said to me he wanted to eat out my sadness, and if it were possible I would let him. There was a time when it was who I was, but I don't want it anymore.

this is it

There is an ocean between us. A stormy sea, thousands of miles, too far to swim. Too far to feel and too far to know. What only time can tell. I must be patient.