“Love isn’t always about flowers and happy endings, sometimes its about letting go with love screaming in your bones.”

Death I believe has many forms. It is a shapeshifter. But amongst all the forms it has, love is my favorite.

Time heals but only when nourished with love. The only possible cure for heart break is to love again.

You don’t have to try to fix anyone. You just have to love them.

Most times there is more pain than love in my heart. Sometimes, I hope just sometimes; I find moments that fill my heart with more love than pain.

Tear me open and I will bleed in your name. My heart aches from your absence, but in the aching and breaking is where my art is born.

I would steal the sun, if that is what it took to bring the light back into your eyes.

I keep reminding myself of why we couldn’t be; reasons why sometimes, love just isn’t always enough.

He tells me he is broken and love isn’t for him. Someone please go tell him, heart break births the best of lovers.

Love is like water; like a river crushing through the mountains to carve its own path. Love will make its own way but only if you have the courage to follow.

He is right in front of me and I’m still grieving his loss – abandonment issues.

But hopes are just dreams and not all dreams come true. So I hope of you, knowing very well that you could never come true.

Look into my eyes and tell me I a matter. Then in my eyes see how it’s always been you who matters.

There is so much rain in my heart and yet it feels so empty. Then I remember, for flowers to grow, you need sunshine too.

The cold consumes me. The oceans in my eyes freeze. It’s 2 AM and I can’t move. Your loss is too much to bear.

This soul of yours has lived a million lives before you. Listen to it, believe in it. It knows the way, it has seen it all.

There is freedom in loneliness. A kind of freedom that hurts. The kind you wish you never had.

Love me to the bone beneath the nerves beyond my mistakes beneath my veins and even as my heart breaks. Love me entirely or not at all.

Sometimes, if you’re lucky, someone comes into your life who’ll take up a place in your heart that no one else can fill, someone who’s tighter than a twin, more with you than your own shadow, who gets deeper under your skin than your own blood and bones.

Little events, ordinary things, smashed and reconstituted. Suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.

I learned that the world didn’t see the inside of you, that it didn’t care a whit about the hopes and dreams, and sorrows, that lay masked by skin and bone. It was as simple, as absurd, and as cruel as that.

Your words were cold. I felt them as they crashed through my bones.

Day after day, the echoes of losing you resonate in my bones.

Yeah lets grow old together, But promise me we’ll always have youth in our bones.

December sinks in like a cold shouldered old friend. I try to stretch, reach my toes, but my own bones feel covered in snow.