“I cannot tell if it is a blessing from an old god or lovely dark art only that he holds my heart.”

I feel too much and I fall in love with words – poet.

Brave soul, you will survive it all.

With him, the tides the moon, and life itself lost their spell over her.

Some nights I wish I could slip into her skin and wear her flesh only to feel his touch.

And you broke me in all the ways I loved you.

She’s a daughter of the healers in Salem and even tho her wings are scorched she still chooses to do good.

And you will always be my most beautiful someone.

And his rough hands upon my porcelain skin had me howling at the moon.

And every time I care I die a little.

There are parts of me that beg him to devour all of me.

The art of harvesting pain – poetry.

Poetry is not a cure for sadness but it makes the pain bearable.

I’m laying bare still untouched by the hands I crave completely taken by words.

You didn’t need to make her cuts this deep.

She dances barefoot through the smoke upon ashes from a broken world  – she is hope.

A loving reminder at least we are lonely together.

The art to breathe and smile despite the pressure of anxiety, takes courage and power, keep appreciating yourself.

It is an act of courage every time you create. Stay brave.

I wept that everything he made was pretty I forgot that I, too, was an art-the girl with a soft heart.

Your smile is an art no one should ever get hold of.

Her face was art and her body was poetry in a short black dress.

If creativity calls, you answer. Otherwise, the words are lost to you forever.

Muses are born from a soul that is aching but I would sacrifice the most beautiful art if I could stop one heart from breaking.

Loneliness is an art shaped by self-love.