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

Dawn breaks and this heart breaks, too. Yet the sun continues to rise and this heart of mine knows only of the journey down, like an eclipse of the heart.

Pain made me grow in the most unexpected places. And now I know what it feels like to be a wildflower.

I wish for a world where our hearts could be seen on the outside and we acred more about what our love looked like than our faces.

I am not scared of what I may find within the darkness of this forest line. But I do fear what the wild may find in me. I do fear that kind of vulnerability.

It was meant to be just rain, that went away. Yet we became the storm, of yesterday.

Wouldn’t it be a different world if love passed as freely through us as money passes through hands.

We are much like the nights sky, the big things draw our attention. But its the little things that really light us up.

I’m holding onto you, like a cloud holds rain. Knowing at some point I must let go. But waiting for the perfect storm, that will make it so much easier.

Sometimes my lion will try to roar back when I flee. But its my butterfly that keeps me silent when I leave.

You’re the crescent moon cradling all theses shadows of me teach me how to shine so there’s no distance between you and I.

Pain is as dark as it is deep. But just like anything that receives enough light, it too will fade over time and become something, a little less ominous, and a little more hopeful.

Pain often hides behind dry eyes yet that river still flows on the inside.

I’m holding happiness as though it never left it was always below my skin. Waiting to be seen waiting for the opportunity to breathe again.

It’s those hands of time saving me when nothing else can.

Skin on skin his heart beat an orchestra against her chest. Love never tires of music like this.

I am caught between the meadow and the sky knowing I can walk long distances, but believing there’s something greater than where my feet can take me.

Flowers don’t worry about how they’re going to bloom. They just open up & turn toward the light & that makes them beautiful.

I will bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them.

Love has to be flowering like the stars, and measureless as a kiss.

Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same.

It is very necessary to work in the garden and see the flowers growing.

When you like a flower, you just pluck it. But when you love a flower, you water it daily.

Love is the answer, and you know that for sure; Love is a flower, you’ve got to let it grow.