“Understand my soul – it’s the only love language I care for you to know.”

If this love is going to break me, at least make my suffering sweet. I want to know what you taste like in sweltering summer heat.

If there’s still hope for the hopeless, there must be hope for us.

I imagine myself cold as ice falling into your open arms. Everyone says it’s beautiful where I am but I’d rather be where you are.

I write poetry in my sleep because you only visit me in my dreams.

Play me a symphony of love with your tongue. It doesn’t have to be romantic.

I watch in silence as day turns to dusk as our love turns to dust.

Desperate for answers, I go searching in the stars. I ask them: on a scale of one to catastrophe, how beautiful would they say we are?

I used every color on my palette to bring you back to life. Now you paint the most beautiful rainbows in someone else’s skies.

Your lips land on mine like a delicate prayer but I can still taste my mistakes years later.

I am still learning to love all the parts of me you kept hidden.

Static heart. Work of heart. Purify me with a dirty tongue.

I set sail eagerly and hungrily on the sea of love, to which there is no end in sight – only bright beginnings.

You are a waterfall of a woman. It’s no wonder why you’re always ready to spill.

He looks at me as if I’m the flame and he’s the sea; he’d turn his tide for a chance to burn with me.

Rain over me. I’ll still set like the sun for you.

I dream about the lover I wish I had, and all the ways I could be touched by him.

A purpose, an intention, a design, strikes everywhere even the careless, the most stupid thinker.

That we live in a post-truth society today, and that we don’t care, that we have lost empathy. We have stopped caring for each other in a way. We have stopped thinking long-term and sustainable. And that’s something that goes much deeper than just climate crisis deniers.

Do your duty and a little more and the future will take care of itself.

You deserve a good man. Who tells you he cares. Who listens when you speak. Who chooses you above the rest.

I mastered the art of not caring and wow it made me more daring.

I can take care of myself but still its nice knowing you love me enough to do the same.

I don’t care what kind it is, just get me a beer.

Nobody loves you till you dead that when they might care.