I lose myself in my words and I lose myself. You'll find pieces of my thoughts here, like shattered crystal. Poems are stories from the heart I suppose but these are hardly poems. They are more things I never said.
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She poured out her soul as she stained the page with ink The words "I love you" came to her mind yet, she dare not write it But what was the point of stopping now when her hand was already stained with ink So she finally wrote the words she was dying to say
I Love you
So vague and so petty those frail words yet it was all she could think of when she thought of him
But letters aren't his thing she thought So she crumpled up the page
