“You are the sweet, soft, delicacy that delights my soul. I want to taste every part of your aura’s citrusy tang.”

You have always been able to manipulate my heart in such a way that even though I’m bleeding, I offer you band aids that are holding me together.

Piece by piece we rebuild the moon each night.

Forgiveness is a baked good it takes time and patience and i used to enjoy bouncing around the kitchen mixing sugar and love- but i don’t bake anymore.

I realize, no matter how much we grew, no matter how much we may have learnt, at the end of the day we both lost- because we didn’t have each other.

Dear me, I love you the most when you are being yourself.

Often all we can do is breathe, even that can be hard sometimes.

I’ve scattered poems all across this world so that if you ever decide to wonder about an old friend you could see that despite all my anger really- I just miss you.

Some things won’t change-some things can’t.

Last winter was colder than usual. Maybe it was the warmth that died with the millions of lives covid stole, or maybe it was the way close people betrayed me and left a gaping hole.

After the vines that were tightly wrapped around my neck finally loosened, I made a vow to never take breathing for granted again.

I wonder if she understands how different she is from any other friends I’ve had, If she recognizes how many of my poems are about the way our souls entwine, If she’ll ever know how much I love her.

I’ve grown to enjoy solitude it doesn’t feel as lonely when you are accompanied by a pen and paper.

It gives me chills the way the world trembles when the past is on its way back.

On my most dreary days, hand me a map of Europe and a cup of tea and just wait for my dreams to encapsulate my soul.

I have had many highs and lows in my short life neither stays long enough to be familiar.

Noticed that I had been holding my breath for so long and finally gave myself permission to breathe.

I’d wear clogs, short pants and ladies’ bracelets. I created this aura for myself.

The aura of uninvincibility has gone, if there is such a word.

A realized one sends out waves of spiritual influence in his aura, which draw many people towards him. Yet he may sit in a cave and maintain complete silence.

Her aura was warm and I was a naive sunflower, leaning towards her.

I think the energy I give off is quite non-confrontational. That’s something you learn from karate. Once you try to be a tough guy, you’ve got to pay up. You’ve got to prove yourself. And that’s exhausting.

The sunset on the beach, calls to her, opens your aura, and releases the power of peace in the air.

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

What you call magic is nothing more than an act of the imagination fired by the senses, then given shape by the power of your aura.