it's a hard concept to graspyou could carebut you don't.not at all.and everything i'm holding onto,i must let go of.but the thing isi want to lay in your bedand just figure out life with you.
i think what my problem is,is either i love him with every ounce of blood inside of meor i dont.i don't think i could ever be just friends with him again.i understand what you mean about opening up the wound over and over againit really does hurtbut i'm scared that one dayi wont feel anything anymore.i don't want that.maybe you dobut i dont.i'm trying to learn how to turn my back on yousomething i've never had to do to anyone.so don't you dare ask me to do that to you-someone i love.my heart is on my sleeve
if i had the chance to meet you again,would i do anything differently?would i tell you how i felt back then?would i still keep it to myself?would i'd rather have you break my heart three years ago, or somewhere in between then and now?
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,And the YearOn the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,Is lying.Come, Months, come away,From November to May,In your saddest array;Follow the bierOf the dead cold Year,And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling,The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knellingFor the Year;The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone
I never lost as much but twice,And that was in the sod.Twice have I stood a beggarBefore the door of God!Angels -- twice descendingReimbursed my store --Burglar! Banker -- Father!I am poor once more!
The weight of misfortune has stooped my shouldersBut I don’t intend to stop for a good while yet;I afflict my own destinyAnd don’t want anyone to mourn for my fate.I’ve made peace with God on my lossesAnd agreed with him on the epitaphsThat should be written about my senseless wars.