He was motionless
behind the windows
i hide myself,
i cover him bleakly
How can i move?
when he will no longer feel nor see.

Time is up.
Its been beyond
picking up pieces of broken glass
is easy when youve done it more than once.

Didnt you know
that your breath
is a mist in my pain?

Give it up.
Its moving.
Im moving.
Drifting away
like the leaves of a fallen day.

Pick up the grains of sand,
that had dusted my miles of longing
Don't you want to blink?
And lose a moment's thought

The wind has kissed my hair,
a million times that you haven't,
yet all remembrance comes
from that one time you did.

My soul embraces that tiny part of me
that you thought you have,
yet it yearns for your hand
in so many ways you'll never know

How can i bloom a midsummer's love
when we are lost in our worlds?

Once, a poor number
that sparks abound my memory.
We lose time, yet only to gain
that of that once.

All love stories are the same. It gives you that momentarily surprise wherein the world stops, and all the flowers seem to smell good, the wind seems to dance with your hair and the sun seems to kiss your skin. But, love ruins everything. Its that certain feeling that most people confuse themselves with.

Why do we want to fall in love again despite knowing that its all the same?

Because its in that single moment, we become human. We feel more. We stop living our lives that only happens during holidays, or on the weekends. We live more. We seem to get more out of life.

And when its over,

All love stories will be the same.

It stemmed from the winds of a lifetime of emotions
Of wine glasses and ashes of doubts.

Emptied farewells from yesterday,
thoughts i have long engraved in the stars.

the trails of footsteps on my rooftop are finally gone.

Kisses from the sun, comfort from the rain.
My coffee's nearly cold.

And then, i wouldn't have to say,
All love stories are the same.

pulchritudinous.

i dont know why we all hang on to something we know we're better off letting go.
its like we're scared to lose what we dont have. some of us say we'd rather have
that something than absolutely nothing, but the truth is. having it half-way is
harder than not having at all.

"Day and night are linked in a way that few things are; there cannot be one without the other, yet they cannot exist at the same time. How would it feel? To be always together, yet forever apart?"
- The Notebook, Nicolas Sparks


To realize the limits of the word "together" is indeed, crucial.