"I don’t know what I want from you anymore. Whether it’s your approval or your heart or if I want nothing at all. There’s this constant gnawing in my stomach that won’t go away when I think about you. I know I should give it all up but I am sixteen and in love with someone who I see in everyone I have ever met. There is not enough poetry in the world that can put us back together. I can’t be mad at you anymore, there’s just nothing to be mad about. It is like refusing to forgive the sun for radiating her ultraviolet rays, but still you stay out during the strongest times and refuse to wear the sunblock. I can’t sit here and think of other beautiful ways to say that I really fucking miss you other than that: I really fucking miss you. I believe in love, the purest kind of love that can only be shared between naïve and vulnerable people, but I don’t believe in the words anymore. I could say anything I like about you, like how your cupid’s bow meets the curve of your lips, the crinkles around your eyes when you smile a genuine grin. Right there. I still talk about you like you haven’t abandoned me. You broke me, but open spaces lets light through and I can sit back and feel the warmth kissing my shoulders instead of you and I’m happy. Then again, maybe I have a false perception of you, and how I make you out to be isn’t how you really are. Maybe when you took my breath away, it was lungs collapsing from the constant crying at night. You are not the moon, and you don’t control the tides or dictate how many times you can waltz into my life without warning because I don’t like unexpected visitors. So with that I will sing myself to sleep the words of your favorite song and watch my world fall apart at 2AM."