“So she loved the rain amid the fall.”

Memory is not your enemy. The real enemy is your desires, chasing your past lamenting over and over.

Seek you in me in your darkest times.

Sky; a map of constellations intertwined with dark and light.

Horizon; where lovers entwine like they did alluring, spellbinding – what an affinity they have.

You gave me the courage to rise but my darling robin why did you fly leaving me behind these four walls all alone?

To those who say self-love is selfish, you are either hunted or haunted.

Poetry is a feeling, a feeling of healing.

It’s unconditional; their chemistry is unconditional – forever.

Poetry is a pleasure to your pressure.

I never understood flowers until I met you.

Fall is the rise.

At times being oblivious keeps me more alive in this chaos.

You hit the soft spot of me making my heart skip a beat.

You are my tamed fire in the wind.

Poetry is a home, a home with joy.

No pain no worries only the beating of our hearts.

The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love.

Love betters what is best.

Janie looked down on him and felt a self-crushing love. So her soul crawled out from its hiding place.

It’s emotional warfare telling the people we love, the most, the truth about ourselves.

I can give away everything I posses, but am without love, and I have no happiness

In my travels all over the world, I have come to realize that what distinguishes one child from another is not ability, but access. Access to education, access to opportunity, access to love.

Love is more than a noun-it is a verb; it is more than a feeling-it is caring, sharing, helping, sacrificing.

Do you have to have a reason for loving?