“Just realized that moonlight was just a matchmaker for the stars.”

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.

Into you, like the sun embraces the moon – a beautiful eclipse.

My love for prayer was an answer to prayer.

A reminder that you don’t owe anyone any part of you.

I’d love to go and camp out and live in a tent in the middle of nowhere and see how long I could live and survive.

To love is to live. ( & vice versa )

When I first appeared, people couldn’t figure out whether I was gay, straight, black, white or whatever, and I loved that. I loved the fact it scares people.

Masculine anger is always because you are feeling constrained, trapped by life. Feminine anger is always because you are feeling unloved.

Doesn’t he know I want everything? And in return, I’ll give him all of me.

Paying attention is the most basic and profound expression of love.