“When you are broken and he has left you do not question whether you were enough, the problem was you were so enough he was not able to carry it.”

What I miss most is how you loved me. But what I didn’t know was, how you loved me, that had so much to do with the person I was.

Borders are man-made they divide us physically don’t let them make us turn on each other – we are not enemies.

The thing worth holding onto would not have let go.

People go but how they left always stays.

Even though we were both under the same roof of that coffee shop. I was still solar systems away from you.

My tongue is sour from the hunger of missing you.

I have never known anything more quietly loud than my anxiety.

Losing you was the becoming of myself.

Despite knowing they won’t be here for long they still choose to live their brightest lives- sunflowers.

Fall in love with your solitude.

On the last day of love, my heart cracked inside my body.

We need more love not from men but from ourselves and each other.

Trying to convince myself I am allowed to take up space is like writing with my left hand when I was born to use my right.

You do not just wake up and become the butterfly -Growth is a process.

I am hopelessly a lover and a dreamer and that will be the death of me.

There is a difference between someone telling you they love you and them actually loving you.

You, a God I worshipped Your word was music to my ears Rose-tinted glasses: verdict You confirmed all my worst fears.

Everything worth experiencing in life has the potential to break your heart.

You haven’t broken me, You’ve only cracked open my out shell and I thank you for releasing the warrior from within.

We broke away from each other like clouds after a storm. But the sun never reappeared for me and I don’t know what to do with all this rain.

He always preferred the way my eyes looked after they had cried. I wish he knew how fine they looked once he had said goodbye.

The only way I’ll ever choose to taste sweet love again, Is if he tells me, he loves my mind, and the way I use my pen.

I am his, as he is mine. That is truth. And it is unbreakable.

If hearts are our homes, why do we let others break windows and throw stones?