“I want the light filtered down through the trees painting flesh like a mosaic and filling up the dark in me. I want to see how sunset decorates your hair.”

Come crawl atop me and we will spend the daylight buried in kisses.

In the space, the pause between this breath and the one that follows, you have made a home inside me.

You are the habit that I will spend my lifetime trying not to break.

We too can rise up, We too can float like lanterns To a better place.

Because of you I can feel myself slowly but surely becoming the me I have always dreamed of being.

There is more light than darkness, there has always been.

Photos I’m not in and memories we don’t share, haunt my lonely eyes.

I will never, ever believe in the words “too late” because it is never too late to be exactly who you wish, do exactly what you should, say exactly what needs to be heard, and live the exact life you should be living.

I care not about lost firsts, but I will fight, knuckles bloody and teeth sharpened, for your lasts.

Oh what we could be if we stopped carrying the remains of who we were.

Illusions must be out to death. That is the cruelty of growing up.

I Remember It, Precisely And Perfectly, The Birth Of This Love.

I do not know if I will ever be complete, but I know whatever I am, You will always be the rest of me.

I love you, in ways you’ve never been loved, for reasons you’ve never been told, for longer than you think you deserved and with more than you will ever know existed inside me.

If I died tonight I think I would like to come back as your morning coffee. Just as strong and just as necessary.

Press your ear to my chest and listen where a heartbeat should sing you will hear the melancholy songs of tired whales.

I like to stay home a lot. I like to do other things, too, like decorate.

I love to decorate a room – from the furniture to the objects to the books.

Art means nothing if it simply decorates the dinner table of power which holds it hostage.

It is not enough to wear an ornamental cross as a pretty decoration.

I think that women should be decorative.

You know, maybe I was just born in the wrong time, but I love all things romantic. Puffy understands that. For my last birthday, he covered my hotel room floor with rose petals and had flowers and candles all over the room.

My ink-soaked heart could write your name across the sky a thousand times more than the stars that decorate the velvet night.