Monday, September 20, 2010

You.

You. I think I'm still in love with who I wish you were.

You. I don't know what we are anymore.

You. You're too good for me. I'm sorry I keep pushing you away.

You. I hate how things went so wrong; the could've-beens are killing me.


And you. I miss you and I wish you were here.

















But it's getting easier to breathe everyday

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