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I like my soul when it touches yours; winter turns to summer and my nightmares become dreams.

Related Topics

Dreams Love Myself Relationship Soul Summer Touch Yourself

Bagwalas

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

When I told you that I hadn’t been broken before; it wasn’t a fucking challenge.
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Break Challenge Myself Talk Yourself
Some souls were never meant to be content.
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Satisfaction Soul
I like my soul when it touches yours; winter turns to summer and my nightmares become dreams.
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Dreams Love Myself Relationship Soul Summer Touch Yourself
I could lose myself in you or die blissfully, trying.
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Death Lose Myself Try
The tide has pulled the storm from my soul again. But in all that is right or wrong and pure, there is you, and your stunning ability to blur the lines and just be.
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I have God in my words and the devil in my ear, and a sister who keeps telling me to find my magic.
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Devil God Magic Myself Sister Word
Melancholy- My longest of lost lovers has returned to dance with me Again I loved him; intensely.
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Dance Intense Lost Love Myself Return
I drink to the ones that can sit with their souls and not wish for sleep and the nightmares it brings.
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Drink Myself Sleep Soul
On paper I have killed you a thousand times but my heart disregards clever words.
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Heart Kill Myself Paper Time Word
I breathe him in so deep that when he is gone I exhale and taste him again.
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Breathe End Himself Leaving Taste
He was exactly like hitting a red light during a killer streak of green.
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Himself Kill Light
Poetry is the loveliest art. It has a wretched way of revealing our own character when we think we are judging the poets.
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Art Character Judgement Love Poet Poetry Reveal Thinking
The deepest pain I ever felt was denying my own feelings to make everyone else comfortable.
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Comfortable Feeling Myself Pain
Dance with me. Bring my demons to their knees.
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Dance Devil Myself Relationship
And that is the nature of us poets and whores, to make things hard: dicks, choices, life.
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Choice Hard Life Nature Poet
You can fan the flames with hate or stroke the fire with love, either way, it’s going to burn.
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Burn Fan Fire Flame Hate Love Yourself

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