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

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.

She loves her lonely moments the silence away from the crowds, when its just her daydreaming.

Her afternoon tea is a fountain of daydreams.

Night time thoughts lead nowhere but into melancholy.

Breathing and using cold, through cold showers and experiences, provides a boost of performance compared to anything that would be possible if the person had not done that.

For me, God is cold.

I found by deeper breathing, going into the cold, thinking about it, dealing with it; getting the conviction that my ability to breathe deeper is making connections with my body.

Cold water is merciless, but righteous.

A cold wind blew on the prairie on the day the last buffalo fell. A death wind for my people.

Cold coffee is a liquid morgue.

May your cold nights die a warm death.

In the cold you left me, that is how my love for you came to be.