Beat me in my conscience, with your innocent words. I know you think you're helping, but sometimes it hurts. You tell me my heart is worn on my sleeve, and I should put it away. You tell me I don't deserve the words once thrown my way. We talk of everything but it all comes back to this. You are with someone else; I am placing my heart on a shelf. One I cannot reach. The story will never end, I know that now. Should I stop writing it? But the words keep coming out.

My sister whose not really a sister leaves this week. "Do you know what you're doing?" "No." "Be careful." That was our goodbye.

You tell me I should have no regrets, never let someone burn me twice. I didn't with you, why should it be different with him? You show me her picture, tell me this is the girl you're going to fall in love with. I tell you what you needed to hear, that you cannot help who you fall in love with, you cannot force it. You know this. Why is it we're the same, so much the same? And anytime we get close, we never push away? We just go in a direction unknown. I'm not sure what we are anymore.

I called you after we talked for 2 hours over a couple of beers the other night. To tell you thank you for your words on him. Because whether or not they were true, they helped. Only you.