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

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.

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

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

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

I have waltzed with wolves and howled at the moon. But my heart will always remember the slow-dance that ended much too soon.