“We were purple, one day, we felt whole the next day split apart into red and blue.”

“No” is such a controversial word. Clear, resounding when uttered by men. By women, Low, muffled. Sounds like “yes.”

To know more, I must first admit that I know nothing. Only on a blank page, can words be written.

Ran out of time, before we even began. How long will the road not taken be starved of footprints?

I no longer ask humans, for a definition of love. For, they tend to force on her, the traits of those who have either treated them well or not at all.

Both strong and weak may survive; if neither takes too seriously, the titles of ‘strong’ and ‘weak’.

A natural law; ‘forgive them or become them.’ slowly, unnoticeably, surely.

A lot of my mistakes, are birthed by curiosity. Like a child, drawn to fire; I came for the light and found pain instead.

Ears quick to listen. Lips, slow to speak. I take, so that I may give.

I used to envy the sun, for having seen it all. I was wrong. Left with nothing to see, how bored she must be.

Doubts are powerful. They, not only demand we look again, they tell us what to see.

Patience is not the ability to wait. It is, how we wait; an attitude so unruffled, that none can tell if we’re waiting or not.

Doing good and being good; are two different things. The first is a shirt we put on, take off. The latter is our skin.

Spiritual or religious. Which will you be? Society, asks of me. Inscribe my name on the list. I said, Of which has more compassion in it.

When you have no money, you’re penniless. When you have no love, you’re poor.

Standing between who we are, and who we want to be, is that which we find easiest to be.

Time ensures that we heal; not that we forget; In forgetting how a scar came to be, is to silently invite another injury.

We have never been so connected but still feeling so alone.

Sunsets feel so lonely now without you.

You don’t have to act on every thought and feeling you have.

I rather fall in love over and over again and get hurt all over again than feeling dead inside.

How the feeling of never being good enough rarely ever wears off her chest.

The things that made me feel dead, made me feel alive again.

I’ve been to the countryside a couple of times. Somedays it is all wood and grass and empty. Other days it feels like you!

I can’t un-feel the trauma – it’s in my blood.