So focused on your beauty
   that forgetting how...make...words

This notebook and I share a secret,
which I will never reveal.

This notebook, on the other hand,
has at times sleighted me slightly.

This notebook is not to be trusted,
for if I trust it, I may be betrayed.

This notebook and I share a secret;
it will never be told lest I talk.

It kept me
numb
and numb was the
only feeling I
was searching
for.

I used enough
in those days
to avoid
feeling any
type of emotion
for too long.

And when I
cried,
it was mostly
over a memory
of a time when
I should
have cried
but
was too numb
to care.

Reminder:
It's better to be losing her in books
than losing her to someone else.

a.g

It's hard to explain
how this heart feels.
Like laughter lost in echo
and your warm touch
now long gone cold.

Anxious, breathless;
something lost I need
so desperately found.

Empty perhaps.
Abandoned like houses,
broken like silence.

These hands can't reach as far
as where you lay.
Somehow I feel like I burn at both ends;
the flames now reaching their meeting place.

But it's always better to burn out
than to fade away.

In the glimmer of the winter-
I, missing you,
missing the we,
missing us.
In the frost of the snow-
you, buried deep,
buried and lost,
buried as our past.
In the middle of December-
cold is the wind,
long is the night,
gone is the warmth.
In the end, all is lost, memories fade-
Gone is the day.