I get awefully sad, knowing your poems are not about me.

Can you see me? All of me? Probably not, no one ever really has.

How long has it been since someone touched a part of you other than your body?

You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.

I used to think I wanted to be a poet, but in reality, deep down, I craved to be someone's poem.

In order to understand, I destroyed myself.