“The gift of the king is the nobility of the exalted; the gift of the king is the favor of governors.”

It is beneath pale blue skies, amongst sycamore trees, and afoot dirtied leaves, my heart, and soul finds peace.

A wounded heart never stops bleeding.

I swear the stars align at night just to see you smile.

I get so lost in your midnight eyes I forget we’re running out of time.

The worst thing is not to share our pain with each other when you can.

Love was created for so many reasons and you will always be one of them.

Tired of being tired burnt out from putting our fires.

In the darkness there are no shadows to fear.