“If it is love it is always enough love is a quality, not a quantity.”

Today was the day years ago it meant something then it can’t anymore.

We are so much more than the sum of parts colors staining us bruises of identity.

My heart cracks like an egg spilling the promises I thought I made.

Love and devotion are different words for a reason.

We dream of roses and grow like weeds.

My heart keeps room for you always even when you can’t be here.

Somehow you’d had your mermaids never smell like fish.

Spring into summer from pale green to emerald unfurling with grace.

You are all burning desires and questions with no answers.

Love was learning to read your vulnerability like a foreign language.

We don’t always have to see eye to eye when we are meeting soul to soul.

It is an act of courage every time you create. Stay brave.

We would look with scorn at witch mothers who build towers but not at princes who lust after caged women.

Somehow even in the dark, you can always turn to catch my kisses.

Love is not a net to catch others with.

The loss of innocence is inevitable bitterness does not have to be.

We were playing hide and seek with our shadows simply pretending to grasp for love we could not find in ourselves.

Your love has rebirthed me.

My lips thirst for yours but they are desert dry our hostile environment has weathered our love.

Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind.

You’re a gem, own your worth!

My mind is entangled in the thought of you.

We love our habits more than our income, often more than our life.

Give me an old bookshop, rain, and memories of you.