The stars, like the hollow eyes of a god forgotten, marry the sadness of the exhausted hour and inspire a little chaos, a little gentleness, to those below.

I look up at the sky and see everything I’ve ever lost,
waiting for me.

If you stand right at the edge of the night sky, some place where one o’clock leaves to meet two, the breeze will carry your words up to the stars. And they’ll swallow your secrets until its time to hand them over to the truths in the sky- the ones that draw maps in the black.

They carve their answers into the backs of my hands, the grooves of the words running deep in my palms.

Always tell anyone you love that you love them because does anyone ever really get upset to find out that someone loves them?

This isn’t Sex and the City, and life isn’t a Nicholas Sparks novel. The best kind of love is one that is calming on the spirit, easy on the heart, fulfilling and completing.

Heartache and heartbreak reveal many different shades of the blues within one's self.

love
is giving everything too easily
then staying to try and claw it back