“Your name landed on my lips like december snow and slept there forever like a baby.”

He killed her autumn with his cherry blossom smile.

You’re a flower, the universe has given to the nature to profess its love.

After heartbreak, darling treat yourself with some sunset and poetry in a wine glass.

Your name is a song my thoughts dance on until they reach the tip of my quill.

Fear people who dare to walk with their chest open, despite of having a heart bruise by love.

He looks up in the sky. I count stars in his eyes.

Your lips taste a lot like petrichor, on my rainy days.

Exist so loud that even if you die tonight, your deeds illuminate like stars.

Life is a burden and death is a luxury, at last we are all dreaming to buy.

And the biggest irony is you spend a lifetime finding someone to love and then die learning how to unlove them.

I’m the ocean swaying with the harmony of your moon.

Gift him flowers and watch him blushing like even fall.

You’re breathed all over the walls of my lungs and I don’t know how to breathe you out.

You can always wear armor of your smile as a remedy for this world full of damaged souls.

Music is a weed, we all fallen souls are high on.

Ever since I met you, love wore the shade of your eyes.

A LISP programmer knows the value of everything, but the cost of nothing.

It was a question I had worn on my lips for days – like a loose thread on my favourite sweater I couldn’t resist pulling – despite knowing it could all unravel around me. “Do you love me, I ask?” In your hesitation I found my answer.

Lisp isn’t a language, it’s a building material.

My lips have been silenced for so long, my own voice feels like a stranger.

Better is the poor that walketh in his integrity, than he that is perverse in his lips, and is a fool.

I’m out there doing the best that I can, My lip is cut and I’m still playing.

To open his lips is crime in a plain citizen.

The lips of the wise are as the doors of a cabinet; no sooner are they opened, but treasures are poured out before thee.