“Sometimes life breaks us and buries us alive, but that is how we find our purpose and rise bloom in love.”

She is dandelion wishes and watermelon kisses. He is tumultuous fire and venomous desire.

Love is my religion and let it use me to be the light on the darkest of nights.

Tainted with lies, toxic fire dancing in your eyes. Kisses like poison arrows aiming for the heart killing me softly. Toxic love is an art.

I do not know how to love gently. Devour me completely leaving no insecurities behind. Let me taste every drop of your devotion. Lets run like the wolves and never let go.

You’re the secret whisper of the mountain. The fresh water stream that babbles down the majestic moonlit reverie. You’re the silent hush of screaming stars that ache my heart with the taste of magic.

Your smile is watching a flower bloom in love. Shy at first, then your brightness unfolds and you magically decorate the world with your flashy hues.

This heart of mine wears battle scars, only a beast could understand. A hunter must be patient in this war zone of land.

I walk around like a faded ghost, a shell of a person waiting to be filled with your love which brings me to life like a cup of morning coffee.

Mold me into poetry. Make me flow beautifully and deep. Write me into rhythmic verses with silent words that make me weep. Paint me with emotions like a bleeding sunset on a shore.

If only love spilled from lips and truth bled from hearts then hate would drown in a flood of understanding.

This melancholy heart longs for a fresh start, where darkness will lift sands of time, kindly sift without a sound for i am found.

My wings of hope unfurl soaring through the broken battlefields of life. On a journey to plant myself and bloom in iridescent rays of reverie.

Some say your body is a temple. But I’m feeling trapped within this flesh. My mind is a haunted fortress and I’m a prisoner in duress.

I am addicted to your madness drunk on your toxic love. Infect me with your poison, lets make storms rage above.

Rising from the ashes on wings of tomorrow. Her strength carries her into the dawn of new beginnings.

She’s love without boundaries. She’s home without walls. She’s the warmth of the sun that catches you when you fall. She is mother, she’s irreplaceable.

I would like my Dad to be alive so he could see what I am.

I too was naughty as a child & played pranks. The child within us has to be kept alive because that child keeps us alive.

I think people generally are lost, as they keep thinking about what is going to happen and what they have done. They are not alive anymore. The art of listening is missing. In their head, they are doing something else.

I am not lost. I am very much alive.

To be alive at all is to have scars.

They only live, who live for others, the rest are more dead than alive.

I work to stay alive.

How nice – to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.