“Even the stars cried when they wrote our fate, a love so deep yet we had to separate.”

I have inherited my fathers rage and my mothers silence. Everyday is a survival. I am a fire burning, just invisible.

Brown daughters are just fragile glass houses always on the verge of shattering.

I believe we all deserve good endings. We were kind people before this world turned us cruel.

They said everything I lost will come back to me. I said -everything I’ve lost is too lost to ever come back to Me.

My love isn’t love. It is devotion. I don’t fall in love, I shatter. I don’t love, I worship.

I’ve been so hurt. Just love me enough that my heart heals and all my scars worship your name.

Even when the blood in my veins is the same as them, every cell in my body is against becoming like them. What a curse it is to hate the very thing that birth you.

I want to write happy poems on new years. But grief doesn’t have timelines, and it refuses to let go of me.

Without this sadness I wouldn’t even know who I am.

You seem like such a long ago; but you were supposed to be my forever?

I don’t say I know what love is. But whatever it is, you are its every shade.

All the dreams you planted in my eyes, will someday haunt you alive.

Death I believe has many forms. It is a shapeshifter. But amongst all the forms it has, love is my favorite.

Time heals but only when nourished with love. The only possible cure for heart break is to love again.

You don’t have to try to fix anyone. You just have to love them.

Most times there is more pain than love in my heart. Sometimes, I hope just sometimes; I find moments that fill my heart with more love than pain.

It must hurt to know I am your most beautiful regret.

The Red Rose on my grave shows once I was in love.

I am not a hotel room I am home, I am not the whiskey you want I am the water you need, don’t come here with expectations and try to make a vacation out of me.

We began with honesty let us end in it too.

I spent the entire night casting spells to bring you back.

When you are broken and he has left you do not question whether you were enough, the problem was you were so enough he was not able to carry it.

She was a rose in the hands of those who had no intention of keeping her.

Stay I whispered, as you shut the door behind you.