“When she holds me close to her chest – her heart speaks to me.”

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.

I can honestly say, after talking about my mom passing away, I got the biggest weight off of my chest.

Modesty seldom resides in a breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues.

Think of mission like the paddles of a defibrillator applied to the chest of a dying church.

Seek no homes in other people’s chests.

You pause and attend: the heart beats in your chest; outside, the trees are thick with new leaves, a swallow dips over them, the light moves, people are going about their business.

You can’t hurt a man with a pinprick when he’s already got a spear in his chest.

Every person has a revolution beating within his or her chest

My chest expanded and I suddenly wanted to beat on it with my fist. The girl was making me go all caveman.” -Marcus Hardy