“There is snow on my face and wind in my hair and winter has nearly stolen me. But as I remember the words of our song then spring still owns a part of me.”

We are much like the nights sky, the big things draw our attention. But its the little things that really light us up.

I’m holding onto you, like a cloud holds rain. Knowing at some point I must let go. But waiting for the perfect storm, that will make it so much easier.

Sometimes my lion will try to roar back when I flee. But its my butterfly that keeps me silent when I leave.

You’re the crescent moon cradling all theses shadows of me teach me how to shine so there’s no distance between you and I.

Pain is as dark as it is deep. But just like anything that receives enough light, it too will fade over time and become something, a little less ominous, and a little more hopeful.

Pain often hides behind dry eyes yet that river still flows on the inside.

I’m holding happiness as though it never left it was always below my skin. Waiting to be seen waiting for the opportunity to breathe again.

It’s those hands of time saving me when nothing else can.

Skin on skin his heart beat an orchestra against her chest. Love never tires of music like this.

I am caught between the meadow and the sky knowing I can walk long distances, but believing there’s something greater than where my feet can take me.

There is no road less travelled than the one that leads into the sea. But the waves will always take you to where you need to be.

Morning mist like a blanket to dawn, obscures the hope of a new day. Yet the sunrises high, and the blanket falls and hope returns to the stage.

Take me from this wasteland, for I have longed for an escape like a bird that craves the wilderness, from every corner of his cage.

Sometimes it is not about the touch at all it is about the hands they belong too.

Bitter sweet rose her thorns pierce every bone, but her lustful petals fall like bandaids for bleeding sores.

A flower grows where it is planted but love grows everywhere.

I saved a spider from death. Stuck on the smooth white curvature, Almost drowning in the bathtub of regret. Eight eyes looking up at me, a face he will never forget.

You can find beauty in the darkest of places. Be the light, my love. Bring smiles to their faces.

People think your success is just a matter of having a pretty face. But it’s easy to be chewed up and spat out. You’ve got to stay ahead of the game to be able to stay in it.

As I comb my hair I find a grey one stands out among all blacks. I’m too like that grey hair, lonely among familiar faces.

I still find myself searching the crowds for your face.

When people see an actor speak, they think they know him or her, whereas I’m just a face or a body to them.

People who cannot see through souls will keep searching for beauty in faces and will never find it.

This is face blindness, but not really it. Among all the faces I see, I could only see yours.