Birthing is never easy or without pain, be it a universe, a child, or a fresh start in life. Contraction precedes expansion. Darkness comes before dawn. Joy follows pain. This is the way of things.
Beautiful are those whose brokenness gives birth to transformation and wisdom.
Beneath the rust and grime which dulls the shine of our weathered hearts, joy patiently waits to be rediscovered.
Sometimes it feels like you’ve set off a spectacular lightning show in my heart, and I wonder if other people can see the flashes through my skin.
She thirsted for love, but found only a mirage. Some hearts are a desert you can die wandering in.
Let’s just sit quietly and listen to the secrets the rain wants to tell us.
Out of the void and vastness of the cosmos, life emerges; audacious, improbable. You and I are here. No other miracle is needed.
She was a tragic beauty. Sadness had left its fingerprints all over her face.
As the waves relentlessly seek the shore, so my thoughts continually return to you.
Do you believe in magic?” she asked. “I believe in you,” he said. “And you’re the closest thing to magic that I’ve found.
With skin dressed only in moonlight, she beckons you to her secret garden.
Sadness is a bruise on the skin of memory.
When I lean my ear up against your seashell heart, I can hear an ocean of love roaring inside.
Sometimes the only way to get closure is by accepting that you’ll never get it.
After what she’s been through, there really should be crime scene tape around her heart.
Everyone needs someone who can show them what heaven looks like.
I walk these lonely streets at dark. Just me and the night; crowded head, empty heart.
Hope is a delicate flower which refuses to be crushed under life’s brutal heel.
When life gets dark, that’s when stars appear among us. Shine bright, beautiful ones. Throw light from your burning hearts.
Her veins flowed with liquid poetry. I stole the words from her mouth with my kisses.