“Some days I wonder how I can become more then I think of you and I grow with love.”

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.

He smelt like spring and felt like rain the kind that cooled earth on a hot summer day.

Today was the day years ago it meant something then it can’t anymore.

Some days, you will be close to the finish line and still not make it.

I still have hope that one day someone will love all of me – from the hallelujahs right down to the hallows.

Some days I am more wildfire than a woman.

Nostalgia seems to haunt me these days I wonder if it’s old age or just a phase.

Eases our darkness into daylight. Oceans apart, but what remains the same, is our eyes gazing at the same moon.

What a loss they suffered, the day they left you.