“The infinite ceiling of my dainty delicate dreams makes me see the wise world where my heart belongs.”

Unexpressed feelings reside in music that does not have lyrics, but feelings in rhythm!

Like a busy fairy smiling in its own melancholy on unending Friday nights, the loving wings of my realistic fantasies, spread themselves as wide as the sea.

The sensation of the sunshine sparkles my eyelids from time to time.

Coping with love’s aftertaste, my fractal feelings sprint in haste, my mellow neurons transmit tears, like a cascade of caramel latte.

The state of nothingness ends, but the longing for it never does!

Eddying towards my zero points four mystery misted pens naked nib, the stars splash starlight ridden waves, on my ever-circling emotions.

Add the frozen dreams, to the passionate flavor, in you and there you are, having the best of you!

A narrative told in the infinite galaxy of colors that melt into white and, brushstrokes bourne upon land who are titled ‘human beings’.

Nothing was trying to hurt me, except my own thoughts, which felt like needles, trying to stitch tears within my eyes.

Time stops for the heart to tick-tock!

Petals and thorns grew hand in hand, realizing themselves, the oneness in them didn’t seem afar!

Santa sobs recalling December’s decor, navigating joys volcano, overcoming dawns of insomnia, waking the snowflakes to find, yearlong sleep, which delightfulness sneaks!

My love is like a trigonometry problem simplified by my heart’s mint green genies, the broken being in me sings a million epiphanies, my life is but colors spilled in polaroids of caring butterflies.

The glass is broken into particles that now accept themselves as art.

Thoughts in bottles battled and shattered the glass of their containers, which floated in the ocean like a sun made of diamonds.

The spikes of the cactus which grows in my heart, are alike the water lilies that only bloom in the dark.

Unfolding into yourself, what a tender, delicate thing.

Self Love – the most delicate intimacy.

In a dancer, there is a reverence for such forgotten things as the miracle of the small beautiful bones and their delicate strength.

If you destroy delicacy and a sense of shame in a young girl, you deprave her very fast.

Never do what a specialist can do better. Discover your own specialty. Do not despair if your specialty appears to be more delicate, a lesser thing. Make up in finesse what you lose in force.

What is commonly called love, namely the desire of satisfying a voracious appetite with a certain quantity of delicate white human flesh.

And what is so intricate, so entangling as death? Who ever got out of a winding sheet?

Her delicate breasts shake his enormous apparatus in elaborate worship.