“I will always have a little bit of the wild in me. Always remembering what a good heart tastes like. Like love, that never ends. Like you.”

Isn’t it a lovely thing watching flowers greet the wind as if a gentle kiss is all they need to dance.

I’m like a lost bird. My wings are not broken, but my heart is. Love always kept me flying. But now, love is what keeps me still.

Sometimes our greatest strength is our greatest weakness sometimes to love is to fall.

I’ve painted stars around tears that I’ve cried. And now my pain is a galaxy and every star has a name and every name feels like pain and you’re every star.

The sun never gets tired of kissing the sky, goodnight. And my heart will never tire of a love, like that.

She fades away falls behind the curtain of the night and retreats beyond the darkness as though she is gone for good. Yet, she always returns. And so does, love.

Snow relies on branches much like I rely on love but snow knows how to let go and I know how much it hurts.

Dawn breaks and this heart breaks, too. Yet the sun continues to rise and this heart of mine knows only of the journey down, like an eclipse of the heart.

Pain made me grow in the most unexpected places. And now I know what it feels like to be a wildflower.

I wish for a world where our hearts could be seen on the outside and we acred more about what our love looked like than our faces.

I am not scared of what I may find within the darkness of this forest line. But I do fear what the wild may find in me. I do fear that kind of vulnerability.

It was meant to be just rain, that went away. Yet we became the storm, of yesterday.

Wouldn’t it be a different world if love passed as freely through us as money passes through hands.

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.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It’s always our self we find in the sea.

Sometimes some of the toughest things you deal with end up being the best things because you realize the people that you can rely on, that love you and support you through it.

Winning a tournament at the end of the year boosts your confidence a lot.

Death means my present physical costume ends.

When we bluff our way through life, pretending to be who we are not, we end up looking worse than we truly are.

At the end of the day everybody lost. We almost crippled our industry. It was very disappointing what happened.

I guess it’s true, goodbyes aren’t just endings but beginnings too.

If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.