“I would be lying if I said there were not times that I am an earthquake contained inside this skin.”

I am made of more; More than tears, more than heartache, More than all of this.

If you give me home I will give you adventure. It’s both we can have.

Find my hand in the darkness and if we cannot find the light, we will always make our own.

I believe in love at first sight but I will always believe that the people we love we have loved before.

Let it go, just let it go, but if I set down that weight what will show my arms they are strong?

And the sound of my smile will be the alarm clock to your morning ears.

I’ll never ask you to be anything other than exactly you.

She is she alone, and never needs help from me to be all she is.

I will wait, I am waiting, and I will love you with all the love I posses until this body is ash and I begin my search for you again.

All I know, all I can comprehend of the mathematics of a life, are the times your hand is inside my hand, and the times it is not.

Some days I wake up and all I feel are the fractures in the flesh that covers the only me I’ve ever known.

Look up more than down. See more than say. Listen more than speak. Hope more than dread. Believe more than criticize. Yes more than no. No more than maybe. Laugh more than cry. Love more than hate. See. More. See.

Just keep waking up, dragging yourself out of bed. It will get better.

I would love to say that you make me weak in the knees but to be quite upfront and completely truthful you make my body forget it has knees at all.

I find you in storms, I feel you in the lightning, I miss you in rain.

You are exactly Precisely and perfectly What I waited for.

Behind that gate of skin and bone dwells his soul and I’m not ready to move on.

Your hair on my skin feels like gentle brushstrokes of a wind.

Together we traced daydreams on each other’s skin, kisses our paintbrush.

And I don’t know if it’s his lips or his fingers that make thousands of roses bloom on my skin.

Some nights I wish I could slip into her skin and wear her flesh only to feel his touch.

Many times over my eyes have devoured the layers of your skin but I’ve never seen you naked.

And his rough hands upon my porcelain skin had me howling at the moon.

The wind tickles my skin trees bend back and forth sunlight kisses the earth and yet with no sound at all, I hear everything. I am peace.