“I will not force a pretty smile upon my face to please eyes that no longer see me.”

I could lose myself in you or die blissfully, trying.

I drink to the ones that can sit with their souls and not wish for sleep and the nightmares it brings.

I swear if I were to rip myself open, it wouldn’t be blood that poured out of me, it would be him.

Oh my darling, you mustn’t fill up on memories alone, there is heartache and regret yet to be served.

When I told you that I hadn’t been broken before; it wasn’t a fucking challenge.

I like my soul when it touches yours; winter turns to summer and my nightmares become dreams.

I have been covered in easy kisses from uneasy lips, and I know I smell weary again.

And that is the nature of us poets and whores, to make things hard: dicks, choices, life.

One day I will fall gracefully to pieces. Until then, I’ll just fall.

Whatever it is that stirs your soul listen to that. Everything else is just noise.

He calms my chaos and I fuel his fire. We are a match made between heaven and hell.

Dance with me. Bring my demons to their knees.

We were electric together, you and me; we turned hurting each other into a goddamned symphony.

You can fan the flames with hate or stroke the fire with love, either way, it’s going to burn.

I drink to the ones who can sit with their souls and not wish for sleep and the nightmares it brings.

The tide has pulled the storm from my soul again. But in all that is right or wrong and pure, there is you, and your stunning ability to blur the lines and just be.

My mother says I didn’t open my eyes for eight days after I was born, but when I did, the first thing I saw was an engagement ring. I was hooked.

We colour and mould according to the wants within us whatever our eyes bring in.

I always make sure my lashes look cute.

Beauty is how you feel inside, and it reflects in your eyes. It is not something physical.

It was terribly beautiful to Tess today, for since her eyes last fell upon it she had learnt that the serpent hisses where the sweet birds sing.

So much is said with the electricity of the eyes, the intensity of a whisper. Less is more.

The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye but found by the heart.

The Wings of all kinds of Insects, are, for the most part, very beautiful Objects, and afford no less pleasing an Object to the mind to speculate upon, then to the eye to behold.”