“Even the stars wish for you but the night is ours and you’re mine.”

I don’t mind his company but I wish he was you.

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.

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

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.

When you fall in love with the process rather than the product, you don’t have to wait to give yourself permission to be happy.

I just love music – I was always singing and dancing.

You can love someone and still make the choice to let them go.

Have a great love for those who contradict and fail to love you, for in this way love is begotten in a heart that has no love.

Not by blaming the world, not by shunning the world, but only be loving the world can I have peace of mind.

Your scars were looking for the perfect place to land. My skin was soft.

My heart beats differently for you.

Carry these pages. Till one day they compliment the tale. – the chapter.