“I am made of flowers, the kind that always grow back even after the frost.”

I have found that pain has a habit of planting roots in beautiful hearts.

Sometimes i get lost in the forest while the rest of the world sleeps. But i don’t mind. You give me something to come back to.

Into the soft sand I will carve your name and let the ocean steal what little remains.

We were a storm that couldn’t decide where to let the rain fall. I never wanted to let go and you didn’t know how to stop.

Oh, how beautifully you will bloom again.

Nothing grows from spreading hate, You’ll find that out quite soon. But plant some love within its place, the world will surely bloom.

The wild is always changing like a reminder. You do not have to be the same to be beautiful.

Watching the sun rise again over the rooftops i whisper the things i wish would come back, too. Like hope like happiness like you.

Don’t you understand? I do not want you to fight for me. I do not want this to feel like a war.

And sometimes I think I could touch the sky because these hands were made to reach and this heart was built to survive.

Some pain stays but we learn to carry it.

I am always trying to be more than I am instead of remembering that what I am is more than enough.

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.

The thing about healing is that it keeps growing the more time passes, and the thing about time is that it keep passes.

Like a storm that does not know where to let the rain fall, sometimes i do not know how to let go and other times i do not know how to stop.

Please don’t be afraid when i tell you about this emptiness i carry. I am still so full of love.

And the flower I pick is you to throw you in water and watch you re-root.

The Red Rose on my grave shows once I was in love.

This morning I told the flowers what I’d do for you and they blossomed.

She was a rose in the hands of those who had no intention of keeping her.

Once I spoke the language of the flowers, Once I understand each word the caterpillar said, Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings.

She reminds me of sunflowers when she faced the light she bloomed.

Tell me about the flowers that bloom in your mind when the earth sits between you and the sun.

My flowers rot beneath my bed. I was too selfish to part with them. I hope their deaths don’t bring hexes. Did I say flowers? I meant my exes.