“How beautiful she is to have tears as unapologetic as the rain.”

I talk to you about her so that you’ll talk to me.

She struggled with goodbyes, because of how easily she loved.

If you allowed it, I’d break all the rules.

A kind heart and a smile that gets her in and out of trouble.

Let’s make the world wait while we write poetry and talk about love.

How perfectly you love my imperfection.

Give me an old bookshop, rain, and memories of you.

We’re just friends. It’s as complicated as that.

We were supposed to be, even if we can’t be.

You will always be my favorite story to tell.

Every letter of every poem is one more moment with you.

Because a broken heart still beats.

Have you heard the rumors about us? I kind of love them.

You introduced me to secrets.

What a magical spell those stars cast, making us believe we were written for them.

I have nothing to say and I can’t help but think that says a lot.

Beauty is nothing other than the promise of happiness.

Did you know, you’re sort of beautiful?’ ‘You hit your head pretty hard, didn’t you?

I am little concerned with beauty or perfection. I don’t care for the great centuries. All I care about is life, struggle, intensity.

In everyday life, my wife is the most wonderful. We’re in love with each other beyond belief.

The sight of anything extremely beautiful, in nature or in art, brings back the memory of what one loves, with the speed of lightning.

I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful.

The boys that lose our directioners are so stupid, they will never find such beautiful girls in the whole entire world.

Self love is not only loving the parts of yourself you deem beautiful, but also the parts you’d rather hide away knowing they are all deserving.