“So grand yet so small, so important yet so irrelevant, so beautiful yet so shallow, must thee live in illusion or does real life leave too much of a confusion?”

The beautiful repose of the night its silence and mystery contrasts the commotion of my soul.

Oh, how I wish you were here bathing in the silky sheets of my dreams, your lips on mine a flame and wine smoke in the air clouds filled with thoughts oh, how I long for your skin and touch.

When the grass turns brown nobody seems to care. It’s just temporary, they say yet I can feel it will stay and stay.

From time to time, I would like to cut off all the strings and lines that conclude that ridiculous puppet show they call life.

I cried and cried and cried having Realized that the beauty of my soul was being neglected by nobody else but myself.

And I try, I so try to fit everywhere, with everyone to be neutral, to be good and with all that, I lose myself. I lose the truest layer of all.

I feel all that, your touch your presence your breath but can’t tell if its you I’m looking at.

Yet now as we grow older why must we be frightened of being tranquil?

We have to remember to do small things every single day and minute for sometimes love is simply not enough to fill our cup.

How is it possible that with one stare I’m in flames and no fire extinguisher shall help me? and so here I stand a tree burning from inside out of love from you.

This feeling in my chest is telling me to stay to do as I should, to be where I should but my mind is telling me to go away.

Even on the darkest days the sun still rises.

A feeling deliciously bitter lingers on my tongue. It’s sharp relish urges me to keep my mouth shut and my conscience clear. Though how can one act so when one’s veins are stuffed with what’s not said before?

We laid in bed with our hands tied, talked about love and clear, summer skies.

Each and every bad seed counts, for even if they don’t survive or grow too beautifully, a bad seed allows you to re-evalutate the others and appreciate them even more.

I cried today and I cried yesterday, Salty tears rushing down. My face fastened breaths, palms in sweat and the unbearable guilt of my being.

She is beautiful contraction; a fragile heart with indestructible love.

Your darkness is hauntingly beautiful. Mesmerizing.

Lips so gorgeous they could make fuck off sound like a love letter.

I like to make something beautiful when I run … it’s style. It’s doing something better than anyone else. It’s being creative.

I have loved the principle of beauty in all things.

The excellence of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeables evaporate, from their being in close relationship with beauty and truth.

With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.

I want to make beautiful clothes for women and men who appreciate detail and quality. The product must be the best but this is almost secondary to the service the customer will receive.