“And maybe my arms have grown too tired to hold this but my eyes will never stop searching for miracles.”

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.

Sunflowers adapt to let the light reach them and I’m learning to do the same.

I want to be like the wild; Never afraid to grow.

Always be kind. After all most hearts are home to some kind of pain.

They tell you to be grateful for what you have. But you are also allowed to be sad for what you have lost.

I remind myself that I am capable of growing flowers from rain and building mountains from dirt.

I have cried with the rain. Now I will grow with the forest.

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

You cannot hope to heal when you are stuck some where between needing to get over them and still wishing for them to come back.

It hurts to let go but it heals to be free.

They expect me to feel like spring but my heart is full of April showers.

And I would lie on your chest for hours and dream about the world in your arms but your thoughts were in another world.

We have a tendency to fall for broken things thinking we can fix them What if we just gathered all the pieces into our arms and loved them just as they are?

Peaceful dreams find me pull me from reality in their arms I land.

Just you and only you. You fit so perfectly in my arms, in my bed and between my legs.

In the world full of chaos, being in your arms is the only place where I can find peace.

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

Whenever death may surprise us, let it be welcome if our battle cry has reached even one receptive ear and another hand reaches out to take up our arms.

These people are very unskilled in arms – with 50 men they could all be subjected and made to do all that one wished.