“I heal me for I heal you.”

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.

If I had wings and could fly I’d fly all seas to see your unseen beauty amid the whispers of love.

Everything seems to be a design – a mixture of prejudice and injustice – the limbo of silence.

Without you, my heart will be full of weeds.

We love to live with sweet lies until reality touches the edges, of those sweet lies.

We are all broken things. But there’s so much beauty in those cracks. And so much strength in those places we’ve mended.

Her tears of pain transformed into jewels of resilience as soon as she started with soul deep self love.

Solitude causes more wounds than it was ever meant to heal.

If I could tell him anything it would be that he was his strongest bravest & most powerful in his most vulnerable of moments -the healed will not hurt you.

Healing is a messy process. But it always has a beautiful ending.

The fog is lifting I am healing- You don’t own my heart.

We are not responsible for what breaks us, but we can be responsible for what puts us back together again. Naming the hurt is how we begin to repair our broken parts.

Nothing is healed in anger that was made in love -take the gloves off.