I don't want comfortable. My heart is not a recliner.

Be careful with those promises who whisper while wooing and loving someone. There are those that take them to heart, and some who take them to soul.

How I wish I only felt using my hands and not with my whole heart.

They beg you for transparency. Yet when you give them a peek behind the curtain shrouding your hear, they run in sheer fright.

Our spirits are connected honey. Wrapped in firsts of gnarled heartache. But I promise not to let go if you don't.

Her mind is a mess, and she has no intention of cleaning today.