“When she holds me close to her chest – her heart speaks to me.”

For the souls who slightly push our universes towards a new perspective. – Gratitude.

How the feeling of never being good enough rarely ever wears off her chest.

Our darkest days were probably infused by the patterns we once needed to protect ourselves. – burden.

Like all great stories it started with a kiss and ended with a long and slow goodbye that went silent – in the end.

What ever I want from this day on, I have to let it go.

Our darkest days were probably infused by the patterns we once needed to protect ourselves. – burden.

As long as we keep on reminding ourselves how far we have come. – We’ll be okay.

She knew exactly where she needed to be.

These stones In her pockets, the dime of her – compassion.

The intimate conversation adores her. – sincere.

When she shines, she shines bright. Radiant I suppose. Kind for kindness, she lights up to be seen.

She knew exactly where she needed to be.

When she holds me close to her chest – her heart speaks to me.

Even her smallest steps are a part of something – tremendous.

Lets walk along side the rain and try not to look for shelter this time.

What if we are all here to complement one another. – Kind.

I can honestly say, after talking about my mom passing away, I got the biggest weight off of my chest.

Modesty seldom resides in a breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues.

Think of mission like the paddles of a defibrillator applied to the chest of a dying church.

Seek no homes in other people’s chests.

You pause and attend: the heart beats in your chest; outside, the trees are thick with new leaves, a swallow dips over them, the light moves, people are going about their business.

You can’t hurt a man with a pinprick when he’s already got a spear in his chest.

Every person has a revolution beating within his or her chest

My chest expanded and I suddenly wanted to beat on it with my fist. The girl was making me go all caveman.” -Marcus Hardy