You Know You're In Love With Somebody

You Would Love The Way He Sees You. He Uses You As A Weapon Against Himself And Not Merely Because You Did

What Else Is Life From The Time You Were Born But A Struggle To Matter, At Least To Someone?

Being An Insomniac Only Slows Me Down. I Try Not To Write At Night, As I'm Concerned That This Will Affect The Quality.

I Hold Him To My Chest. My Love For Him Is The Only Unequivocally Good Thing I Know Is Always There Inside Of Me. It Is The Reason I Should Be Spared All That Is Coming, The Only Reason.

He Sits In His Car At Traffic Lights On His Way Out Sometimes And Tries To Estimate How Many Times He Has Sat Here, Waiting At These Traffic Lights On His Way Somewhere Without You, Hoping To Meet Someone With The Capacity To Consign You To An Anecdote, To Be Eventually Confused With Others