maybe baby, we should stop. when we’re hurting and crying— why do we continue to stay. if love is the answer then why do we make mistakes.


i know of a boy who loved forever. he thinks of endless stories and drinks his sorrows, tries hard to write down memories of what used to be, so much– so so damn much that he hurts and he breaks. he tells me of no tomorrows, of broken promises and lips of lies.