“Come back. These broken pieces couldn’t beat anymore.”

Missing you come in waves. Tonight I am just drowning.

She is whisky in a teacup.

The most dangerous drug I know has brown eyes and a heartbeat.

She left the room. I am still talking to her fragrance.

Her voice still echoes in my void heart.

You smell so close when I am drunk in love.

The meaning of life has suddenly appeared in the spark of her eyes.

The stars, they keep talking about you.

Sad birds still sing.

Her eyes are my favorite book to read.

I miss the love I used to see in her eyes.

On my silent days, I miss you a little louder.

She used to sleep listening to his heartbeat on his arm.

Let me take you to the moon, where only you can feel is love.

Her image flickered all night in my tear-filled eyes.

Her memories cripple me at night.

She could beat me, but she could not beat my outfit.

Perhaps some day I’ll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.

When I see a policeman with a club beating a man on the ground, I don’t have to ask whose side I’m on.

Together, we’re going to beat COVID-19.

I’ve got a good mind to go out and join a club and beat you over the head with it.

You never win a game unless you beat the guy in front of you. The score on the board doesn’t mean a thing. That’s for the fans. You’ve got to win the war with the man in front of you. You’ve got to get your man.

Talent you have naturally. Skill is only developed by hours and hours and hours of beating on your craft.

Every kid starts out as a natural-born scientist, and then we beat it out of them. A few trickle through the system with their wonder and enthusiasm for science intact.