“Love is believable. I reckon I’ll just see it when I see it.”

Your words once a melody, now read like an obituary.

I’m used to falling, calling out timber right before the impact.

I’ve been afraid to look at the woman in the mirror. Everyday she looks less and less like me. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever find my way back home.

If I had a wishing well, I’d wish you well. That the skies hold the key to all you’ve ever wanted, with or without me.

It wasn’t enough fading under surfaces, below waves, swollen pufferfish retracting this inflated love that not even you could believe in.

I hide behind olive branches. So afraid of others knowing what lay beneath the broken rifle. The reality hitting the pavement like bullets that stem from war.

The moon may bring peace, but the sun, she offers resilience.

And when I walk alone, I speak in deaf tones. I’m screaming and no one knows, no one knows. No one pays attention to where the sound goes.

Remember me in burnt coffee mornings, warm hugs, fresh sunday snow. Know that you loved me too cautiously.

The autumn breeze carves out an ache in your memory.

Caution! This vehicle stops quite frequently when overwhelmed.

I miss you a little less each day. You’re just a faded memory now – delicate; tucked away.

You are worthy of feeling incredibly and unapologetically alive.

What a shame – how the taste of you could rot even the cedar and cypress. How you fooled the redwood into believing narcissus’ pond was made for two.

It’s time for me to dust off this weary heart so that I may open it to one whose only open to me. You’re going to miss me when I’m gone and it’ll be too late.

My god is a moment, a whimsical idea, a whisper. A hope bending itself into a prayer.

Faith is a place of mystery, where we find the courage to believe in what we cannot see and the strength to let go of our fear of uncertainty.

He who thinks half-heartedly will not believe in God; but he who really thinks has to believe in God.

People can be really smart or have skills that are directly applicable, but if they don’t really believe in it, then they are not going to really work hard.

What a fortunate fellow I am, I kept telling myself. Nobody has ever had such a lovely time as this!

I’m a success today because I had a friend who believed in me and I didn’t have the heart to let him down.

Expectations are a form of first-class truth: If people believe it, it’s true.

The doubters said, “Man can not fly,” The doers said, “Maybe, but we’ll try,” And finally soared In the morning glow While non-believers Watched from below.

You have to know within yourself that you can do this.