“You are the book I keep closed, for some stories are not easy to read. But flowers bloom in between like the story is still alive.”

Take me from this wasteland, for I have longed for an escape like a bird that craves the wilderness, from every corner of his cage.

Sometimes it is not about the touch at all it is about the hands they belong too.

Bitter sweet rose her thorns pierce every bone, but her lustful petals fall like bandaids for bleeding sores.

A flower grows where it is planted but love grows everywhere.

Mountains speak in peaks and troughs. Just like life. And just like love.

I will always have a little bit of the wild in me. Always remembering what a good heart tastes like. Like love, that never ends. Like you.

Some days I wonder how I can become more then I think of you and I grow with love.

We choose our gardens based on what will bloom, and we wait out the seasons, until they do. And sometimes, love needs patience too.

Catch my fall as my wings ignite with love and the sky and I unite.

I’ve been that children, learning to walk. Somedays I’ve fallen, and some days I’ve crawled. But the steps, they grew. And so did my strength. And then I let go of your hand.

The more I branch out, the less lonely I feel. I often wonder if trees are like that, too.

She teaches me I am boundless and free. She teaches me my past does not define me.

Love me later when the sun fades into the horizon and the distance between you and I melts away.

Maybe all these tears are leading me somewhere. Because when the sun meets rain, something beautiful emerges. And perhaps I am a rainbow in the making.

Words are weighted messengers that can break when they drop but a moments pause is the harness that keeps them from falling.

Where the heart feels torn is where the blood rushes most and that’s where all the roads meet.

She hurt deeply because everyone that promised to protect her heart, broke it completely.

Trick me into believing that the world is ending learned things aren’t breaking they’re simply bending now, I can finally do some mending.

Sure, we could have kept going, but the chance of finding a gas station was zero.

And what am I supposed to do with all this residue?

And I’m bruised but never broken.

You took my heart, hope, love, and trust when you left but you gave me good poetry.

No matter how hard you try, some parts of your soul never stop aching.

No matter how hard these waves crash they will not break me.