“Our love cannot be contained within a photograph.”

Our love is that light up every room star.

Tied up by my heartstrings, I can’t break free from feelings – the restraints too tight, the love too strong.

But once your eyes met mine, addiction blossomed and I was undone – petals unfurling toward the light you held.

Your eyes: a tender illustration of love, how you paint affirmations across my bare skin.

Write me a poem in Morse code, goosebumps on my skin and lines on your neck.

Your legs twitch in your sleep like you’re running to me in your dreams.

Look at our story: It is enduring.

The monsters are no longer under our beds.

I never liked nicknames until mine crossed your lips like sugar.

Every word you say to me is forever a gift and I never forget the present.

What is a home if it isn’t waking up next to you?

We are built on a foundation of facades.

You’re my Sunday morning and my Saturday night.

Without you, I’m lost.

Holy power, but more than water droplets, a whole fucking wave.

An angel’s soft breath coating the grounds, a gentle caress wakes us now.

It’s okay if you only have space for you right now.

Love doesn’t require us to stay in unhealthy relationships or situations.

There are two classes of human beings in this world: one class seem made to give love, and the other to take it.

I was not a classic mother. But my kids were never palmed off to boarding school. So, I didn’t bake cookies. You can buy cookies, but you can’t buy love.

When we open to love, we become love.

I had to touch you with my hands, I had to taste you with my tongue; one can’t love and do nothing.

There is no love like your own.

Sometimes the only choice is you.