“Your eyes met mine, and we know our story, from beginning to the end, all things said and unsaid.”

Is it a blessing or is it a curse, to feel everything so deeply.

I feel like my breath is muffled, and my heart is too heavy to beat, as if I’m drowning in a pool of air.

So, I am thanking you today, because of you, I am me.

To the flamboyant boy from my school, I realize now you’ve always been cool.

You’re a patched tapestry, of deep childhood trauma’s, and unkept promises.

Oh, darling, you fell in love with a girl not worth loving.

I used to be a mighty dragon, the one that breathes fire, I used to be a magical unicorn, sprinkling rainbows everywhere, but now I’ve lost it, the magic hidden within.

Your artful hands, hold my delicate heart, tenderly gaze at it, as if its an art.

Can you hear my silence? I’m screaming pretty damn loud.

I think I’ve mastered the art, of taming my wild heart, now my heart doesn’t flutter, thinking about you.

Somedays I fear, I’ll run out of words.

Writers block grappled our souls, we fought back with our words.

Am I killing the kid in me, by strangling my curiosity?

I will never give up on you, from a person who treats like crap is not sweet. It’s toxic and you gotta run!

The opening chords of our rhapsody, lulled me into a state of bliss, as the glistening sunrise in your eyes, intoxicated my soul, drew me in.

I wish I had said no, the day you asked for my number, but I was young, dumb and numb, looking for a harbor of harmony, to mend my shattered soul.

This is the end. For me the beginning of life.

The cross is not the terrible end to an otherwise godfearing and happy life, but it meets us at the beginning of our communion with Christ.

My game of love has just begun, love runs from my head down to my toes. My love is pumping through my veins. Play the game, driving me insane.

I am all about new beginnings. A new grandchild, another new hairstyle, a new email account. Why not a new relationship with the press?

Political promises are much like marriage vows. They are made at the beginning of the relationship between candidate and voter, but are quickly forgotten.

I began to understand that his version of hope reached far beyond mine: It was one thing to get yourself out of a stick place, I realized. It was another thing entirely to try and get the place itself unstuck.

An idea is inevitably a coordination. It is a coming together of something that is separate or disorganized or incomplete. With an idea you begin to feel into the nature of that incompleteness.

The complexity of immigration as an issue begins with a basic human trait: we are reluctant to share.