“Her memory still lingers, like a cockroach in my heart.”

I messed up a lot of things. I called it poetry.

Overcoming guilt, its the first step to doing it again.

Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes, it’s just poetry.

I wake to find her there, with glowing eyes and tangled hair. She is my sunrise.

True love is letting her know that her ass really does look fat in those jeans.

If there’s never been a restraining order, it ain’t love.

It wasn’t forever. But I loved her until I hated her.

She was only a collection of flaws and she was beautiful.

There’s a strange beauty in her. She shines like hell.

He opened her cages, and freed the things inside.

I’m wrong but I’m real.

Break me. Until there’s nothing left and I’ll be free.

She’s no rose. But in her I see the beauty of thorns.

There’s this thing that hurts inside me all the time. Because I know what’s coming.

Lets die. Alone. Like we always do.

Failures often become art. And art can never fail.

There’s a hero if you look inside your heart. You don’t have to be afraid of what you are.

My heart ‘s in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart ‘s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer.

Opening your heart and being vulnerable in the face of fear is the most courageous thing you can do.

It is a friendly heart that has plenty of friends.

I’m a work in progress, but if I know in my heart that I’m doing my best, that my heart’s in the right place, that I have unconditional love, I feel okay.

For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.

All roads are long which lead to one’s heart’s desire.

But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever. Had we never lou’d sae kindly, Had we never lou’d sae blindly, Never met – or never parted – We had ne’er been broken hearted.