Your darkness is a symphony Played in explosions of silence to a crowd that has fallen in love with noise If they refuse to applaud you It isn't because your music isn't beautiful It is because they have no idea how to love what they don't understand...
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.
Not only did I love her, but I could tell the universe loved her, too. More than others. She was different. After all; I would be a fool not to notice the way the sunshine played with her hair.
Nothing brings to life again a forgotten memory like a fragrance.
Tears are the silent passion for suffering
She stared at the stars like they were pillow for her mind and in their light she could rest her heavy head.
My hunger for writing will die when I have bled for the humans that never found the strength to find the words themselves
She writes things with her movements that I for the life of me could never write with a pen.
