I consider myself a stained-glass window. And this is how I live my life. Closing no doors and covering no windows; I am the multi-colored glass with light filtering through me, in many different shades. Allowing light to shed and fall into many many...
Such is my relationship with God: on my gigantic canvass of life, I am the one throwing all of the brightly-colored paints, creating genuine splatters, authentic whirlpools of color, beautiful patterns, wonderful streaks and stains and wild accents; ...
Valentine: You're not afraid? The Judge: I wonder what I'd do in their place. The same thing. Valentine: You'd throw stones? The Judge: In their place? Of course. And that goes for everyone I judged. Given their lives, I would steal, I'd kill, I'd li...
I'm very uncomfortable in my own skin.
Poems are invisible flowers on my skin.
Glamour is about feeling good in your own skin.
Wear your heart on your skin in this life.
His fingerprints covered my skin.
A bit of lusting after someone does wonders for the skin.
Your skin is transparent as distilled moonlight
My mother and grandmother both had beautiful skin.
Pain is pain, hurt is hurt, fear is fear, anger is anger, and it has no color.
The death has an only color.
Feelings are like a color chart that God has given us.
Compromise in colors is grey.
Blushing is the color of virtue.
The more color, the more nutrients, usually.
When Molly O'Toole was looking at the colored pictures in Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's big dictionary and just happened to be eating a candy cane at the same time and drooled candy cane juice on the colored pictures of gems and then forgot and shut the book ...
The moon lives in the lining of your skin.
For you i have saved poems under my skin.
When it's colder, your skin needs more attention.
