“She is still healing in a quiet way.”

Her heart is like poetry a modern poetry only understood by some and accepted by few.

In his eyes she was both poetry and prose.

Her eyes made me feel better.

I’m a poet, a sad poet, who wrote about her, always and forever.

The quiet hearts speaks the loudest prayer, hoping someone would hear.

Some of the magical moments in our life are from the smallest moments.

There were things that he wanted to write on paper, about everything he couldn’t tell her.

Sometimes, we express our words through writing, even though it needs to be spoken.

Losing her was plenty.

No matter what I do I’m still not the best writer for you.

I still see you in my dreams, teasing my feelings and damaging my heart.

You’re rare, which some people don’t care, but I do.

The words that appeared from my Ink where that could describe my love for you.

As my heart began to melt this is what your Emerald eyes do to me.

This time I’ll be better for myself, at least for myself.

I love you but your eyes didn’t see my worth

We all have bad days, but one thing is true; no cloud is so dark that the sun can’t shine through.

Put yesterday down to carry on with you.

Your wounds are not your mistake but to overcome it is your responsibility!

You can heal the wounds by running towards them.

You are not hard to love. You are just stuck in a cycle of asking for it from the wrong person.

To heal, you have to stop pretending it doesn’t hurt.

Following the light of the sun, we left the Old World.

Stop hurting yourself about things you can’t control.