I can have patience for anything, but it’s waiting for love, that kills me a little each day.
We hide our demons so good, that the angels we show, bare the shame on their faces.
The paint is drying, and time is dying. The pain is crying, lying on my back, trying to get back the time, to brushstrokes too fast, wet went dry and love went dull; now I live in a portrait I never painted.
Let me be me, or let me be.
I see you better in music, I hear you better in wind, I feel you more in a flooding moonlight, that understands nothing, but darkness and silence.
At the bottom of the mountain you have your scoffers and doubters, by midpoint you have your envious and haters, and when you reach to the top you have new friends and family you never met or thought existed.
She knows her timing, always knows. The time to strike or the time to starve. Her eyes as a clock, she watches she waits she learns, and in the second she blinks, she changes her mind just like that.
Sometimes I wonder, that one missing sock after doing laundry, is the smart one. After being unhappy for so long, it finally walks away from a frayed, worn-out relationship.
Never underestimate wisdom in silence, proof isn’t always a mouthful of words.
I kiss her ghost, and sleep with the dust on her photograph, next to my bedside.
They say, timing is everything. But then they say, there is never a perfect time for anything.
When eyes have died in its gaze, know the heart had died in its blaze.
People are like water: Many rush pass you, as some will over-flood. Some will drown you, or force you to go their current ways. Some will be cold or hot-tempered, but try to say with the warm ones. Some will come as a raging wave and cause a ripple, or a calm sea, supporting you, quenching your thirst, and flow by your side to where kisses will always stay wet.
To be the salt, you also need to be the shaker. To shake the world. Shake the truth. Shake the people. Shake the word. Have it sprinkle, melt and preserve humanity.
Every corner and room of a house will carry memories, make these the most pleasurable times you shared with your family.
It’s not the appearance that makes a man, it’s the man that makes an appearance.
Let the night take you. Let the stars evaporate into your dreams. Let sleep be the only comfort for you to believe.
People tend to think that money makes them strong, but it’s those that learn to survive without it, are truly the stronger.
We are all actors, set on the stage of the world, as the curtains open we put on our best performance to this audience of life.
Knowing to do the right thing, but playing stupid to oblige to it, is still lying.