“Every letter of every poem is one more moment with you.”

Let’s make the world wait while we write poetry and talk about love.

How perfectly you love my imperfection.

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

We’re just friends. It’s as complicated as that.

We were supposed to be, even if we can’t be.

You will always be my favorite story to tell.

Because a broken heart still beats.

Have you heard the rumors about us? I kind of love them.

You introduced me to secrets.

What a magical spell those stars cast, making us believe we were written for them.

I have nothing to say and I can’t help but think that says a lot.

I prefer daydreams to those at night. It’s more fun to use my hands.

Sure, we could have kept going, but the chance of finding a gas station was zero.

You were all I ever wanted and nothing I could have.

Every day we don’t speak is one day closer to the day we will.

How beautiful she is to have tears as unapologetic as the rain.

The moment that you are willing to step outside of tomorrow, outside of needing more time, or having more time, everything becomes possible. And you may finally notice where the Buddha has always been.

At each moment we are expressing what we know ourselves to be. If we know ourselves very little we will express and manifest that unconsciousness of our true nature.

If we do not live and manifest in our lives what we realize in our deepest moments of revelation, then we are living a split life.

When each moment, each perception is brought out with care, unfolded like a precious gem from its layers of the softest tissue paper and laid in front of the beloved — turned this way and that, examined, considered.

I invite you to stop and ask: How am I avoiding the enlightenment that is already present in each moment? How am I seeing separation where it doesn’t exist?

This moment in which you experience stillness is every moment. Don’t let the mind seduce you into the past or future. Stay in the moment, and dare to consider that you can be free now.

What would happen if you were to allow everything to be exactly as it is? If you gave up the need for control, and instead embraced the whole of your experience in each moment that arose?

Don’t trust the beginnings, truth is told in the last moments.