Come Hither.

Penning inkless thoughts.


I'm writing again. These words to you aren't much, I know. But I'm not sleeping, and you're not here. The thought stops my heart.


I live, I breathe, I let it rain on me.
I sleep, I wake, I try hard not to break.
I crave, I love, I've waited long enough.
I try as hard as I can.
Should I try it harder?
Why do you see right through me?



When will I ever learn that it's unhealthy to keep my hopes this high?


To free the mind in search of.