“Kiss the words from my lips like a love poem.”

The open road is the wanderer’s wonderland.

It’s january, it’s cold and I search the sky for summer like I always do.

Silent lips speak the deepest truths.

Nights were made for broken hearts.

We always live for the summer until we don’t live it at all.

I lost and found myself in all your maybe’s.

I live in the imaginary wild and its soft as summer.

Sometimes getting lost is just the right direction.

Today, she decided to sparkle. And so she did.

I see the world in shades of you.

It takes effort to make it to forever.

There’s too much hurt in loving but too little life in not.

It’s not songs that remind me of lost lovers. It’s poems.

With each daydream she weaved her pastel heart into the sky.

Spring is poetry poured into nature.

I dreamed in skies of blue before september stole all the light.

A short story is a different thing altogether – a short story is like a quick kiss in the dark from a stranger.

We have to walk in a way that we only print peace and serenity on the Earth. Walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your feet.

Always remember this: ‘A kiss will never miss, and after many kisses a miss becomes a misses.’

Thus with a kiss I die.

Love, how many roads to obtain a kiss.

Pain and suffering have come into your life, but remember pain, sorrow, suffering are but the kiss of Jesus – a sign that you have come so close to Him that He can kiss you.

I believe in kissing, kissing a lot.

In one kiss, you’ll know all I haven’t said.