I Wrote This for You, 2007-2017

by Iain S. Thomas

So burn like love and love like fire.

No storm is so bad that you can’t learn something from it. You can grow in a storm. You can thrive.

Perhaps someone, somewhere will create something so beautiful and moving, it will change the world.

The Wet Hair And Eyes

If all you do is make something beautiful for someone else, even if it’s only for a moment, with a single word or small action, you have done a great service.

I hope the little things in your life inspire you to do big things with it.

In that place, time cannot touch.

You are defined by the way in which you treat the people you love. And, the people you hate.

If the type of person you wish existed doesn’t, then that is who you must become.

I was wondering if you had a second. To talk about anything at all.

You reach a certain age where you learn how to wear the skin you’ve been given.

I won’t keep the sheen on my armour.

There is magic. Even here. In office cubicles.

There are people doing great things that they don’t know are great yet.

But this is just who I am to other people. And you became other people.

You might not always like me, the things I do or the way I do them. But these are my things, this is the way I do them and I am me.

And when I asked you how you’d been I meant I missed you more than I’ve ever missed anything before.

The Skin I’m In

I guess I should say thank you, for cutting all my strings. But if it’s all the same to you, I wish you’d left my wings.

This was never meant to be about you. It was meant to be about you realising that it’s all about the people around you.

All the space without you in it, is empty.

The Light That Shines When Things End

“They lived every second they were given and touched the sky every chance they had, they burned and blazed in all the colours the eye can see and left a hole shaped like them in the world when they left.” Then do something else.

Someone you haven’t even met yet is wondering what it’d be like to know someone like you.

Death is when you give up who you could be for the safety of who you are.

I picked up my pieces so I could help you pick up yours.

All the hardest, coldest people you meet were once as soft as water. And that’s the tragedy of living.

I never fell in love with you. I just fell.

Your poetry is lonely. And yet, you write to feel less alone.

If you live in your head for too long, you run the risk of becoming your own secret.

And now everyone else I ever love is going to think me boring. Because I used it all up on you.

I believe in trying your best and forgetting who you are as often as possible.

Look at you, like a new tattoo. Because I might not always have you but I’ll have the feeling of you for the rest of my life.

I’ve written you a hundred messages that I’ll never send.

“Look at all the things you’ve done. Look how beautiful you’ve become.”

The human heart is made from the only substance in the universe that can become stronger, after it’s been broken.

There is a chance for something not quite perfect to happen here tonight.

You can join the millions talking in the dark. Or you can stand up and scream light, out into the night.

You are far more likely to die from fear and apathy, from not having lived and fulfilled the multitude of promises that you make yourself each night before you fall asleep, than anything else.

Just like you mistook lust for love, you have mistaken being alone with loneliness. So I’m fine. Thank you for asking.

If your star falls down, you will find mine lying beside yours.

You say the things you don’t need to say. Because it hurts when you don’t say them.

You are only here for one moment and it lasts exactly one lifetime.

“I mean that the most interesting, amazing people I’ve ever met, the ones who influenced and shaped the universe itself, are the ones that felt too much but lived through it.” “That sounds hard.” “It is. It involves living.”

There are a million ways to bleed. But you are by far my favourite.

And yet, the people around us who die a little all the time, moment by moment, who require the least help, the smallest sacrifice, are the ones we ignore completely.

You are alive in a memory.

You’re just another story I can’t tell anymore.

So if you love me but you don’t need me, you don’t love me.

It’s too easy to lose your mind when you lose your heart. That’s why love is madness.