“She pulled the thorn from her side and turned it into a rose.”

Now if only at my worst had I known I was about to be at my best.

And darling, you’re safe here where these walls only want to watch you grow.

Your love is sirens loud and coming to save me.

That night I fought and I fought but your hold was stronger yet I knew even your hands could not hurt me more than your love has.

Your love is not just a feeling but a knowing.

And so she left, whereas then, she realized that just because she was planted here, does not mean here is where she has to grow.

Darling remember we are all the same with different coverings.

They wished you a home full of hurt but you deserve a home full of healing.

To the girl I used to be I appreciate you for a seed won’t bloom without its soil.

Though I sleep with nightmares of the one who hurt me I wake up with the one who heals me.

In the morning she’s my sunshine and at night she’s my star.

I love to watch you become everything she said you couldn’t be.

You ground me as my roots grow I spread like wildflowers all over you.

I’m a prisoner with no charge a sack of bones in varnished flesh walking around hoping somebody will root me.

Our pollen you thought infected us fed our bees and kept us growing.

And even in my waking hours, I still dream of you.

Love is wild; its whole beauty is in its wildness. It comes like a breeze with great fragrance, fills your heart, and suddenly where there was a desert there is a garden full of flowers.

Kill all the men you have slept with. Put the bones in a box and send it into the sea with flowers.

Live now. When you are eating, eat. When you are loving, love. when you are talking with someone, talk. When you are looking at a flower, look. Catch the beauty of the moment!

Flowers are nice, but love is better.

I paint flowers so they will not die.

Flowers don’t worry about how they’re going to bloom. They just open up & turn toward the light & that makes them beautiful.

I will bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them.