I see no joyous rebirth in spring for autumn will bring another death I see no joyous rebirth

To put it simply each beat of your heart is a gift that I receive with the anticipation of a child at christmas

I wish you had told me that on the good days kissing you would make me think that I knew what happiness was and on the bad days

The pen must be
 mightier than the sword
 For there is nothing that
 will spill your guts faster
 than a bit of ink that says


The hands of this watch haven’t moved since the last time you did and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear the ticking

I was like a rain cloud over a small garden and dammit if you weren’t that garden so full of flowers that I fell in love

Hope in another form but no fewer letters and I’ve been hoping for these past eight years so I’ll just keep on

I’ll keep searching for the meaning of life and I hope I find it as crumpled paper nearish a trash can

So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything