“This wild heart beats restlessness.”

The open road is the wanderer’s wonderland.

We were half a summer love but a forever kind of memory.

He was the hope that died with the last day of summer.

The open road is the wanderer’s wonderland.

It’s january, it’s cold and I search the sky for summer like I always do.

Silent lips speak the deepest truths.

Nights were made for broken hearts.

We always live for the summer until we don’t live it at all.

I lost and found myself in all your maybe’s.

I live in the imaginary wild and its soft as summer.

Sometimes getting lost is just the right direction.

Today, she decided to sparkle. And so she did.

I see the world in shades of you.

It takes effort to make it to forever.

There’s too much hurt in loving but too little life in not.

It’s not songs that remind me of lost lovers. It’s poems.

But I didn’t understand then. That I could hurt somebody so badly she would never recover. That a person can, just by living, damage another human being beyond repair.

Rain love on the people that mean the world to you.

You’re the secret whisper of the mountain. The fresh water stream that babbles down the majestic moonlit reverie. You’re the silent hush of screaming stars that ache my heart with the taste of magic.

Sleeping is hard when your heart is sad.

We all end up loving the ones who don’t love us back. 

It breaks my heart to see people with such great potential to love, give up on love.

Poetry saved my torn heart.

You can’t build a strong connection to the one who is disconnect from himself.