my heart is trying to escape from my chest and all I can do is sit here and be a mess.
I'm in love with the idea of being in love, and have no one to express this; my heart trying to escape from my chest.

I miss the way that my heart would fall out of my chest.
When your pale blue eyes would settle in mine.
Pushed into what I thought was your heart, was only just the start.
I’ve become a mess, all apart in this establishment.
With out care or knowing where or how we are.
All I know is your skin is pure art.
Breath heavy, yet shallow. Holds so much weight.
Upon my chest you leave shadows.
This will leave me breathless, almost, but completely restless.

She moved calmly and carefully, through the corridors of her home.
She had been broken.
Alas, every own touch filled her heart with gratitude and love.

She had thought to herself.  It does begin with this ending.  It does come to a conclusion, of none other than, the love that waits ahead.

She feels it in her bones.
Love is waiting, patiently, to find her. In all her broken sorrow, and happy trials, carrying baggage at the door. Love is beginning, with pleasurable ending, coming into her soul.
Finding the home that rests in her.


She stares upon the eyes.
Finding adoration, and care, willingness, and confidence as well as brilliance and humility.  
She falls into what was always waiting for her.
Unbeknownst to her, love is just.

He tasted of roses and lavender.  
Was as sticky as a bee.
Used me as his flower.
And flew far away from me.

Moments full of butterflies and green grass.
Ocean air and the hot sting of the sun.
Full of dew on my cheek and your heart; perched on your sleeve.