“She is she alone, and never needs help from me to be all she is.”

I have blisters on my feet from dancing alone with your ghost.

I am made from the creaking beams and rusted nails of a lonely vessel on a lonely sea. I am covered and coated, dusted with old salt water and the frail residue of moonlight.

Please don’t break this heart, it’s endured so very much, it survived the fall.

Rise and find the grace, for it is all around you.

Adventure lives a whisper beyond our comfort zones, just half a breathe after No turns into Yes.

Oh what we see when we finally stop looking.

I would rather wear honest tears than the most beautiful and elaborately faked smile.

Lay down your roots now, let them wrap tight around mine, sink deep in the soil.

Wherever I am, whatever I am doing, you are in it all.

I stare at your lips and fall in love with the way they form what you say.

Was I born patient or have the years of waiting taught me to be?

All we can control in this silly and wildly perfect life is the love that we choose to give out without any regard to ever getting it back in return.

I would rather hurt, and walk through the flames you leave, than never feel you.

If flowers can grow through blankets of melting snow, there is hope for me too.

Do you think it possible that some people are born to give more love than they will ever get back in return?

The morning coffee reminds me of your waking I stir to find you.