“My soul and the moon are night time lovers.”

I’m a tangled mess of wild and I don’t want to be unraveled. I like me this way.

He wasn’t like a moth attracted to her flame. He was like a vampire in love with her eternal darkness.

My eyes saw you, but damn, did my soul feel you.

We are all just humans trying to survive in this crazy world, in the spaces between birth and death.

I am inspired by many, but am in competition with only myself.

Sometimes she’s the gentle rain caressing you softly. Sometimes she’s the hurricane loving you madly.

Your darkness is hauntingly beautiful. Mesmerizing.

While you were busy working on your ego, she was busy working on her soul.

Don’t compare her to sunshine and roses when she’s clearly orchids and moonlight.

I have wolf blood and wolf bones. Don’t expect me to graze with sheep.

I do not trust anyone who hides in the light and denies darkness exists.

When the world is too much create your own. I do it every day.

Meet me under the moon so we can chase stars together.

Still refining, staying wild, always growing and evolving

She has the intuition of an angel and fire like a dragon.

Don’t try taming me, I’ll end up growing spikes on my wings and fangs in my mouth.

The man as he converses is the lover; silent, he is the husband.

The idea that men are from Mars and women are from Venus is a bunch of bullshit. Treat her like you would a friend, and you’ll wind up with a lover.

Lovers are made by a kiss.

It is better to have a prosaic husband and to take a romantic lover.

A lover teaches a wife all her husband has kept from her.

Animal lover that I am, a cougar I am not.

When lovers kiss on the cheeks, it is because they are searching, feeling for one another’s lips. Lovers are made by a kiss.

It seems to me a cruelty beauty and tragedies are lovers.