“Mark my words. Memories of me will haunt you when you sleep at night. No one forgets a love like mine.”

These walls are so high, but I refuse to be a prisoner of my past.

There are things that I don’t say out loud. And so they just live in the roots of my soul.

Its okay to have high standards. You deserve exactly what you want.

Whats so poetically beautiful about my world now, is that its finally mine.

She brought the kind of light that was similar to the sun right after it rains.

I fell like the rain on a perfectly sunny afternoon. It rushed over me out of nowhere. It opened up the skies.

I hope hearing my name makes you break. Not all at once, but little by little.

You were the type of person who would put bandaid over a knife wound, and casually as if I was okay.

I knew he could be my North Star when he made me feel something after being numb for so long.

Sometimes its easier to focus on the pain you’ve felt. Instead, think of the strength you’ve gained.

She decided to name the stars. And as each one fell from the sky, her body got warmer. Her heart opened.

Jump. See whose at the bottom when you land on your feet.

Like deep water, she was silent. His lips tasted of salt. He was both addicting and bitter all at once.

I’m choosing to build castle out of the things that nearly destroy me.

I found him in all the chaos, and that was when my world started making sense again.

She’s got a glow about her. The kind that says- She’s been through some dark pain, but she’s lighting her own way now.

I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.

A pair of bright eyes with a dozen glances suffice to subdue a man; to enslave him, and enflame him; to make him even forget; they dazzle him so that the past becomes straightway dim to him; and he so prizes them that he would give all his life to possess ’em.

There’s not much I know about forgetting. By which I mean I can hear her name from a distance; and it still breathes cold in my chest.

Those who forgets their friends to follow those of a higher status are truly snobs.

A Time For Prayer “In times of war and not before, God and the soldier we adore. But in times of peace and all things righted, God is forgotten and the soldier slighted.” -Rudyard Kipling

I hold onto these beloved memories so close to my heart, the thought of forgetting tears me apart.

I want to do something splendid, Something heroic or wonderful that won’t be forgotten after I’m dead I think I shall write books.

Good to forgive, Best to forget.