“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.”

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.

Mountains speak in peaks and troughs. Just like life. And just like love.

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.

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

We choose our gardens based on what will bloom, and we wait out the seasons, until they do. And sometimes, love needs patience too.

Catch my fall as my wings ignite with love and the sky and I unite.

I’ve been that children, learning to walk. Somedays I’ve fallen, and some days I’ve crawled. But the steps, they grew. And so did my strength. And then I let go of your hand.

You are the book I keep closed, for some stories are not easy to read. But flowers bloom in between like the story is still alive.

Man’s wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.

Beauty’s of a fading nature. Has a season and is gone!

A hint of cigarette drifts through this sweet scent reminds me of you reminiscing until smoke fades from my view.

Nobody Can Wipe Out Anybody’s Grief, But Everyone Can Erase Their Grief.

I was a keen observer and listener. I picked up on clues. I figured things out logically, and I enjoyed puzzles. I loved the clear, focused feeling that came when I concentrated on solving a problem and everything else faded out.

All those years now mean nothing besides lessons and memories. Eventually they’ll fade, you’ll fade, and the scars that once haunted me will be mere trophies of my resilience.

Even though he is not mine I wish him a heart fully made & even though, to my love he is blind for him my love will never fade.

We are all marks of condensation on polished glass; steadily fading away.