“And so she remained a mystery, something to dream about on rainy days staring at the dark holly clouds passing by. – in a bed of flowers.”

Like fireflies in the night, she has her way of dealing with the dark. -Illumination.

Nothing but the taste of silence touching her lips these days.

I have tried this letting go part and ended up holding you closer then before. – everyday.

The trick to enjoy this, and see it as a part – of the process.

Love is a mix tape, a blend of lovers part of the same romance. – the romance is you.

Avoidance. Probably the worst dance. – Complicated.

I remember many songs of september but mostly I remember hers.

Imagine her to be more then just – a dream.

I still come here it somehow comforts me – to miss you.

Well it looks like the sun set on us like it set on the orange sky – as the thunder rolls.

There is something extraordinary about watching her inhabit the world. – and sometimes she catches me staring.

The depth to her sea proved to be stronger than any mans current.

Quite literally she had time on hand, while staring at the lines in her skin. – Sketches of a maze.

Empty. Like a vase without flowers – it felt.

How, love and addiction can have similar strains – of attachment.

One can easily make the mistake to lose yourself – incompletely.

Nothing one does in bed is immoral if it helps to perpetuate love.

I just want to be wrapped up in sheets and your vibe.

Only the other day I was inquiring of an entire bed of old-fashioned roses, forced to listen to my ramblings on the meaning of the universe as I sat cross-legged in the lotus position in front of them.

Wake up determined. Go to bed satisfied.

Go to bed smarter than when you woke up.

Whoever thinks of going to bed before twelve o’clock is a scoundrel.

Luxury lives in the finer details. It’s a cloth napkin at a dinner table. It’s a mint on your pillow before bed.

What’s money? A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night and in between does what he wants to do.