“As my heart began to melt this is what your Emerald eyes do to me.”

Her eyes made me feel better.

I’m a poet, a sad poet, who wrote about her, always and forever.

The quiet hearts speaks the loudest prayer, hoping someone would hear.

Some of the magical moments in our life are from the smallest moments.

There were things that he wanted to write on paper, about everything he couldn’t tell her.

Sometimes, we express our words through writing, even though it needs to be spoken.

Losing her was plenty.

No matter what I do I’m still not the best writer for you.

I still see you in my dreams, teasing my feelings and damaging my heart.

You’re rare, which some people don’t care, but I do.

The words that appeared from my Ink where that could describe my love for you.

This time I’ll be better for myself, at least for myself.

I love you but your eyes didn’t see my worth

You’ll heal after this painful chapter.

I hope you could see how blind people see the world with their imaginations.

She was just my kind of poetry.

Women have burnt like beacons in all the works of all the poets from the beginning of time.

Look with favour upon a bold beginning.

Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.

There is no civilization that did not begin with art, Whether it was drawing a line in the sand, painting a cave or dancing.

Force and mind are opposites; morality ends where a gun begins.

A bank is a place where they lend you an umbrella in fair weather and ask for it back when it begins to rain.

Love makes everything complicated, and emotions always go wild in the beginning. But when it’s real, you should hold on tight.

Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.