"Well I though that we could sit around and talk for hours; about things I couldnt say to you and things we could never do." - Mayday Parade.

The things I couldn't say. Theres alot. Like how everytime you walk into the room, I fall in love with you all over again. Or how when you're in my arms, I feel exceptionally happy knowing that I am the one to keep you safe. The things I couldn't say, will remain unsaid.

I wrote a story a week ago, and it stands unfinished but I know you'll give me an ending shortly. I feel it. I feel myself letting go. Although the thought is sickening and I have a feeling of weakness that resides in my heart, I know that this is exactly what I have to do. That time has come. And you Beauty, are the writer. I am merely a narrator, giving the world our words.

We had our moments, our memories; they still hold a significant piece of my heart. And when you were at your best, you took my breath away. You wrote me into your story, and I, well I just made you my short story. I'll put it aside for a rainy afternoon, or those days where I feel like crashing down, because the pages bring me back to a time when I was myself, when I was at my best.

I'll still sing our song, even though the chords refuse to allow words to accompany their radiance. But don't worry, I promise the words are there, and baby, they're yours.

I'm finding ways to smile. It's hard, but the ocean will collect my tears. Salty and bold, they have alot in common. They belong together. I'll find you there. My eastcoast sunset. And theres my smile. "And I'll have you know I'm scared to death."

It's 11:11. And for the first time, my wish has no meaning.



"The commonest thing is delightful; if one only hides it." - Oscar Wilde.