“I am slowly cutting you out of me, piece by aching piece.”

In the pause between your breaths and the space between your heartbeats, I think I heard forever.

This heaviness inside my bones tells me, I still carry the weight of loving you.

And all I wish is that your happiness would reach beneath the surface of your skin, grow deep roots, and bloom.

Tears like flame slide down my skin, they burn like the memory of you.

I constantly wonder if I’m enough, do you? Tell me I’m not alone in my insufficiency.

Broken wings may be grounded now, but they will taste freedom again.

Walls and brick have never felt like home, the way your gentle bones do.

I want to lay down spread out and be the one to fill all the spaces empty – and occupied by her.

I breathe out light pleasing, soft, and warm – I’m still learning to breathe out fire.

Healing was not found in mending my brokenness, but in finding peace among the pieces.

How easy it was to hide from everything; everything except the truth in your eyes.

You were consumed in running away from yourself, and I was just another way for you to get lost.

Reflected eyes held pain from too many vain attempts to find love in other people.

I see the pain you hide inside you, those shadows that haunt your eyes, let tears of liquid darkness flow until space is made for light.

And still, she longs for love, when all she knows of it, is how much it scars.

Clasp me in your warm embrace, let me feel the love your eyes so boldly promise.

Ends and purposes, whether they exist as conscious or subconscious tendencies, form the wrap and woof of our conscious experience.

I’m going to be me at the end of the day. And I think my family appreciates that. They’re happy for me that I’m finding out who I am, and I’m content with that.

If your goal is to be comfortable, chances are you’ll never get rich. But if your goal is to be rich, chances are you’ll end up mighty comfortable.

You must stop this interview now as I have come to end of my personality.

I’m an early riser. I work out really hard. I push myself; I get my job done, and at the end of the day, there’s a Guinness waiting for me.

When you’re an adult, things mellow out. I think when you’re a teenager and you are sad and the world is ending, everything is about that one sadness.

A means can be justified only by its end. But the end in its turn needs to be justified.

Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends, but is played out over and over again in the quietest chambers. The mind can never break off from the journey.