“We are all stars in someone’s space.”

Morning coffee is a ritual best performed alone.

Modern-day love stories are born not out of love, but a tired mind and a restless heart.

We are not the mightiest in the skies, but we are all fireflies.

Ghosts exist as thoughts, and some of them are hauntingly beautiful.

You exist in colors that don’t exist, like memories that are mine but all yours.

We hold on to people like stars on a moonless night.

Be like the crescent moon, far from full, but shining nevertheless.

I love you more now that you’re a memory.

There is no greater sorrow than that of a soul, moving through the tunnels of hope, holding on to the beautiful past while drowning in a pool of darkness all alone, all alone.

The lone tree that stood in my garden.

Let the memories remain warm, even when everything is cold.

Fly like a butterfly in the fields like they did in the time of yore, fly like a butterfly in my heart like you never did from the time of yore.

The heart is known to provide solutions from time to time. Listen to your heart.

I miss the warmth, the morning coffees, and you.

A page in my book will always blank in case you come back.

Would you remember me for a day or four, or will I live with you in your heart, at the core?

Reach high, for stars lie hidden in you. Dream deep, for every dream precedes the goal.

The stars are not afraid to appear like fireflies.

You two are together in the stars, but not in this world, in this life.

Poets say science takes away from the beauty of the stars – mere globs of gas atoms. I, too, can see the stars on a desert night, and feel them. But do I see less or more?

I think I’m a superstar.

She says nothing at all but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars.

We are all in the gutter but some of us are looking at the stars.

I always thought I should be treated like a star.