“You and I are sand in an hourglass and I can feel our time running out. But baby for you I would turn this world upside down just to start all over again.”

You closed the book before we could reach the end.

Muses are born from a soul that is aching but I would sacrifice the most beautiful art if I could stop one heart from breaking.

You decided you loved me when I decided I was done waiting.

I am a sinking ship and my love it’s time you jump overboard or I am going to take you down with me.

I fell in love with a shooting star.

Don’t be a match to someone else’s candle because, in the end, you’ll both burn out.

Money doesn’t buy happiness but it does buy enough wine to drown out the memories.

I hold entire constellations within my soul but all he saw were the stars in my soul.

Some days it is exhausting to simply exist.

I’m afraid someday my words will run out so I spend every waking moment trying to capture the human experience in purple prose.

I want you he says but you are not mine, She smiles and she says I am not his either, I am my own.

I took my demons put them in a jar and kept them on the highest shelf so that you could never touch them.

You smile brighter when you think no one is looking.

I call myself a poet but I don’t have words to describe that feeling that I get in the pit of my stomach when your hand brushes against mine so purposefully accidental.

You threw water on my fire when I was looking for gasoline.

If he was the flame then I was the moth and I would burn with a smile on my face.

I don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.

When you feel like you’ve reached your limit, it’s only the beginning.

I don’t feel I’ll live a long life. That’s why I have to get what I can from every day.

I felt wise and cynical as all hell.

And sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to describe them in.

Books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.

I just look for someone who makes me feel like life is an exciting opportunity and, you know, just like to be alive.

The erotic is a measure between the beginnings of our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings.