At a Lost for words

People fade, like colors in a storybook.  I can’t make up my mind if I want to hold on or not.  The weight in my heart begs me to do so and then tortures me when I try.  I know that things cannot be the same; evolving with them is a crown of thorns.  Her, him, them, us—it’s all paint mixed together.  The brightest days remind me how intricate the picture is.  I often wonder whose signature claims all of this.  
I think too much.  I love too much and I hate too much.  I question too much and hide too much.  If these things define me, I am nothing but stranger in the mirror.  Life has carried me so far from what I thought I knew.