“You may grow to love this person but remember they are not yours to keep. Their purpose isn’t to save you but to show you how to save yourself.”

How much love is a person capable of giving? I thought I knew the answer until I met you.

And if you’ve forgotten, let me remind you. How love never really ends. How your heart breaks the same way it beats, again and again, and again.

It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence.

I know you were born with your heart already broken. But the world began in pieces and somehow made itself whole.

I saw love in your smile and I recognized it for the first time in my life. But you had a plane to catch and I was already home.

The only ones they can turn against you are those who were never with you.

I know love because I am in love. Because of how long I’ve loved. Because of the man I love.

The ache will always be there, but the intensity will fade, and you’ll find other beautiful things to fill your days with.

Who you love and who loves you back determines so much in your life.

Our love story comes to me in waves, in movie stills and long summer afternoons spent under a sky of incessant blue. I still think of your eyes in flashes of color, your hands in a frenetic, feverish blur-your smile a mosaic of light and shadow. I still find myself lost in those moments of abstraction.

Isn’t it strange how much of our lives are interchangeable, how little is truly ours.

Whatever path you choose will take you to the same destination. The only thing that should guide you is your intuition.

For me, that was the death of the word, or; because now, there is no other. It was the end of the word, and; for I love only you.

The things that seem to matter less, are the ones we put on show.

You were none, and now you’re all; your worth will rise, the more I fall.

Love is a dormant volcano, lying in wait, biding its time.