“I want to cuddle to feel your skin, your warmth, hear your breath, and read to you.”

The view looks so much better when you see the beauty inside of yourself.

Everybody has their trials and tribulations it just depends on if you have motivation.

One quick sip of your memory I let it slip, and I go on without you.

The art of being uncomfortable is a fine one it is necessary to become strong.

A love that is, a love that was, a love that loved.

I thought of you to realize that you haven’t crossed my mind for a while.

You could have shook my whole world luckily I became aware, and I took a turn.

I decide that my vulnerability is my strength I remember to not forget.

Time is by my side I’m not running forward for time is not behind.

Sometimes you need to take a tiny break to take space and reevaluate.

You were the sun that made me see that to be loved is also destined for me.

Tainted colors in summer rain mixed with white to relieve all the pain.

You don’t have to be afraid it’s okay everything will graciously fall into place.

You revived me after my knees were weak, you kept going on towards another peak.

I move a bit slower that is fine because I blossom after I hide.

Writing is my job, and I am employed by god.

Batter my heart, three-personed God, for you As yet but knock; breathe, shine, and seek to mend; That I may rise, and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

Breathe in the pain and bring out the wounds. It’s only a process and you’ll learn to survive the rest.

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.

I drink to feel I smoke to breathe Just look what love has done to me.

There’s not much I know about forgetting. By which I mean I can hear her name from a distance; and it still breathes cold in my chest.

Wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.

I held my breath underwater and felt surrender in my lungs; maybe this too counts as love.

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.