“And all these strange birds in the morning sky feel more familiar than home.”

Autumn nights carry the most colourful dreams through the empty woods.

I broke my own heart, hoping that you would find parts of me that you could love.

Her love was like lavender, Delicate and melancholy.

Poetry is a silent revolution.

A great poet to me is a person who can describe a painting in such ways that even a person with closed eyes can feel the pain of the artist.

And all the stars in the deep blue sky are the tears of the moon; the ones he cried while dreaming about the sun

Did you ever take a deep breath and appreciated the people, things and memories that stayed in your life

Mistakes are flowers of change.

An artist paints to forget while a poet writes to remember.

A lifetime of suffering will never be worth a moment of love.

How will you ever be able to heal your broken parts, if you keep allowing the past to stay?

Hope is like that pale orange fight shimmering on the horizon in this early morning hours, And like the stars in the lonely night sky with no place to go when dusk falls.

The moment will come when the feelings in your heart get so heavy that even your body is exhausted.

And the darkness felt suddenly like home again. Like a familiar place in the shadows where we used to meet.

Your heart can capture pain and love at the same time.

Every love that once promised you a forever will leave you at some point in your life and all that is left is a forever in boxes full of fading pictures and aching memories.