Trapped In Wonderland

All my life I was told that love was a feeling. 

I can't erase the traces of you, they'll forever be there.

The heat is stifling even though night falls with a breath of grace made cool breeze. 

When someone asks me how I loved you.

I could keep waiting for that perfect inspiration to strike but there would always be something I could have written better, some words I could have used instead of others or maybe an entirely different poem altogether could have been written but there is only so much I can blame on inspiration.

People are like seeds. Throw them out there in an open field. See then which one will tend to adapt the climate, arouse with the kind of soil and grasp to survive, and grow a life.

I  used to think oceans could heal me; funny, how I thought you could as well. 

Some of my fondest memories were ones made with you. 

There's a little coffee shop near my house.