“You took my heart, hope, love, and trust when you left but you gave me good poetry.”

Why do I paint a happy face every single holiday when they are a stinging reminder of what and who is absent.

Listen to the heart to its beat in time words are no match for what is spoken in the heart’s rhyme.

Friendships exist in the fluctuations between acceptance and rejection.

I want to be loved so I try to be you then I realize what I see in you is in the mirror looking back at me.

All this time I knew I needed some really good therapy and I found it —in poetry.

I remind myself what I desire in another is myself undiscovered.

Release the things that no longer serve you like the petals of a flower. It will seed your life with new growth and you will bloom again.

I am both mud and lotus but, my love you only see the mud.

Our lives are now changed forced anew we start again it’s all we can do.

Through poems, I speak the language of my soul and the emotions of my body onto paper.

Being an empath is a gift – at the same time, you also carry the weight of the world.

My love you are, magic in the mountains moonlight on the meadow mantras at midnight, and molecules of my heart.

The fabric of your life is a beautiful tapestry of contrast.

Finding my way back to myself one day at a time.

How can you be so unconditional when I speak of my dreams but yet so conditional in your love for me.

Harmony soothes us in the abyss when our mind untangles chaos.

You cannot conceive how I ache to be with you: how I would die for one hour.

Sometimes the best way to say something is to say nothing at all.

The greater the silence, the greater meaning it carries. The greater crowded, the greater loneliness. The greater love, the greater pain.

All I wanted was to break your walls, all you wanted was to break me

One day, you’ll leave. And my heart will close like a weeping ipomoea never to open again.

The hardest goodbyes are the ones you never got to say.

Learn to recognize the counterfeit coins that may buy you just a moment of pleasure, But then drag you for days like a broken man behind a farting camel.

We parted sadly, like children in the street on a pleasant june afternoon.