“The pain keeps dripping down my eyes, but it never really stops hurting.”

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.

Tear me open and I will bleed in your name. My heart aches from your absence, but in the aching and breaking is where my art is born.

I would steal the sun, if that is what it took to bring the light back into your eyes.

I keep reminding myself of why we couldn’t be; reasons why sometimes, love just isn’t always enough.

He tells me he is broken and love isn’t for him. Someone please go tell him, heart break births the best of lovers.

Love is like water; like a river crushing through the mountains to carve its own path. Love will make its own way but only if you have the courage to follow.

He is right in front of me and I’m still grieving his loss – abandonment issues.

But hopes are just dreams and not all dreams come true. So I hope of you, knowing very well that you could never come true.

Look into my eyes and tell me I a matter. Then in my eyes see how it’s always been you who matters.

There is so much rain in my heart and yet it feels so empty. Then I remember, for flowers to grow, you need sunshine too.

The cold consumes me. The oceans in my eyes freeze. It’s 2 AM and I can’t move. Your loss is too much to bear.

For since mine eyes your joyous sight did miss, my cheerful day is turned to cheerless night.

Is beauty beautiful, or is it only our eyes that make it so?

Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast, Drowning love’s lonely hour in deep twilight of rest.

A sweet attractive kind of grace, A full assurance given by looks, Continual comfort in a face, The lineaments of Gospel books– I trow that countenance cannot lye Whose thoughts are legible in the eye.

I could meet dreadful people and end up seeing the world through their eyes, seeing their frailties, their needs.

There’s none so blind as they that won’t see.

It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted hands,’ he answered. ‘Kiss me again; and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?

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