I’m still in love with you. Sometimes it feels like I’ll always be. There are days my heart carries like a paperweight, holding down all the letters I wrote for you. Other days, I fold them into paper planes, they take to the breeze, and catch flight.
I keep hoping you’ll come back to me. But it’s an empty wishing well. And there’s nothing to count on.
Still, I dream dreams where we meet in the middle of the road. Somewhere in Texas where it’s summer for most of the months. You’re different, but exactly the same. And years from now, decades even, you still make me laugh. I don’t know a purer sunshine.
(via kevinsvibe)


