“Without you, I’m lost.”

Our love cannot be contained within a photograph.

You’re my Sunday morning and my Saturday night.

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.

If creativity calls, you answer. Otherwise, the words are lost to you forever.

Kiss me like my lips are the oxygen you need to survive or the passion you need to thrive.

To leap or to fall: that is love’s question.

Constricted hearts do not bode well for a mind that ties itself in knots.

Together we traced daydreams on each other’s skin, kisses our paintbrush.

It’s the simple things creating pockets of serenity in a world of uncertainty.

Even the stars get lonely at night.

All I have ever wanted is to rid my mind of the demons that still trespass, despite all attempts to guard the walls.

You told me I was the culmination of all the prettiest sunsets and that was the day I finally saw what you see in me.

Will you wither or will you thrive when the sun hides behind clouds?

Your love swallows me whole – just please, never spit me out in pieces.

Those lips on mine: Not I want you, but I need your kisses.