Branches Book

BRANCHES

the same as before, but the light had changed from yellow to blue and she dug her fingernails into her palms to think that maybe she had to.

What Will We Become?

As the days grow old and our hearts grow weary, what will we become? When love turns to bitterness, turns to nostalgia, when my skin becomes something that you have never touched, when our souls grow apart, and our minds are no longer something each other can recognize, what will we be but memories? When long nights beside each other could be mistaken for dreams, and whispered confessions of a love for each other so great that it was all that

surrounded us blur with books we once read, a storybook romance that will not be told, what will we be but lost in the shuffle? Is love like this meant to be lost like this? Will the pain that came from this subside as we have? As the lights grow dim, what will we become? As our skin grows thin, what will we become? As our lives go on, what will we become? What will we become?

Tiptoes

I'm sorry

if my attempt to find strength was seen to you as weakness, I've spent years searching for happiness I thought I could find it on the bathroom floor.

I know I talk about pain a lot, I’ve been told I know it better than most people do in a lifetime.

I'm sorry

if my search for security was seen as selfishness, I spent years planting flowers at the feet of people

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