Nothing brings to life again a forgotten memory like a fragrance.
Your darkness is a symphonyPlayed in explosions of silence to a crowd that has fallen in love with noiseIf they refuse to applaud youIt isn't because your music isn't beautiful It is because they have no idea how to love what they don't understandAnd that, my darling, is the most horrific flaw in this mixed up world
she lived with hurricane eyes and fell in love with the way the waves collapsed against her cheeks.
Sometimes I sit alone under the stars and think of the galaxies inside my heart and truly wonder if anyone will ever want to make sense of all that I am
My hunger for writing will die when I have bled for the humans that never found the strength to find the words themselves
She stared at the stars like they were pillow for her mind and in their light she could rest her heavy head.
It was rather beautiful: the way he put her insecurities to sleep. The way he dove into her eyes and starved all the fears and tasted all the dreams she kept coiled beneath her bones.
Tears are the silent passion for suffering
She writes things with her movements that I for the life of me could never write with a pen.
Not only didI love her,but I could tellthe universe lovedher, too.More than others.She was different.After all; I wouldbe a fool not tonotice the way thesunshine played withher hair.