“She was the freedom of his existence that rushed in like tsunami, that ignited his breaths into calm.”

The berries of her love bleed, wilt and get scorched with the harshness of pain that is masked by smile.

Her eyes shone with the radiance of vibrant life reflecting the blossoms of her heart.

She is a woman who values the voices of her aura.

She was a recovered woman dipped in happiness, cleansed of darkness that would lit her aflame.

The white pure sheet of her life had thunderous and royal purple lavendar pride with a golden heart.

Moon and stars are what my dark sky has felt but with the story love of his existence.

Moon and stars are what my dark sky has felt but with the story love of his existence.

She is a woman that stands upright with her hand on her sword and pen that protects the innocent with her courage.

Her stressed soul had windows of crushing shards of wilting petals screaming for life.

Everyday she spoke to her souls filled with tranquility until it bloomed fragrant vibes.

It has taken her countless lessons to let go the thorns that scarred her brutally.

You aren’t a caterpillar but a steel sheilded butterfly so roam freely outside your cocoon.

She is a woman, bold and courageous and a goddess.

She is a woman with courage flowing in her veins that shield the loved ones with all her might.

She wraps her cleansed mirrored soul around the filthy dirty lungs to free them towards sanity.

She is the fertile earth that blooms rubies with her blood and honor.

I kissed him, trying to bring him back. I kissed him and let my lips rest against his so that our breath mingled and the tears from my eyes became salt on his skin, and I told myself that, somewhere, tiny particles of him would become tiny particles of me, ingested, swallowed, alive, perpetual.

I couldn’t look at you and breath at the same time.

Patch backed me into a tree and kissed me, hard. I regained my breath. “boys take not everywhere: that was a kiss.

Dont panic, i thought. But already my breathing was faster, shallower. You mean you can feel happy or sad or desire. A barely-there smile.

I think,” Tehanu said in her soft, strange voice, “that when I die, I can breathe back the breath that made me live.

Nice creepy reptile,” Frank said, very aware of the driftwood in his coat pocket. “Nice poisonous, fire-breathing reptile.

I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought.

A line is length without breadth.