Bet you rue the day you kissed a writer in the dark,
Now she's gonna play and sing and lock you in her heart.
-Lorde.

Love is a verb, that needs to be shown.

Love is a verb, that needs to be seen also.

Love is a verb, that really needs to be pure.

Love is a verb, that needs to be showered.

Over others for Love is a verb, an action.

Love is a verb, that was already shown us.

Love is a verb,while Christ hung on that cross.

Love is a verb, Christ use action to reveal to us.

Love is a verb, for he died for us then rising back to life again.

I want to know what it's like to be in love.
To be so in love where problems are only,
temporary.
To be so in love,
you are proud.
To be so in love with living.
To be so in love with someone who makes all else,
beautiful.
To be so in love where the hard lessons,
make sense.
I want to be so in love that I can play in the rain again.
I want to wake up and although completely unsure in life,
I'll know that I'm in love.
To be so in love that I can dream.
For now,
I dream to be in love.

keep me in your prayers love you all.

I forget to tell you why I need prayer .
A crushed disc is pressing against my spine.
I will go talk to the doctor about surgery.
On the 15 of December then   hopefully ..
The first part of January I will have surgery.
Then in February I shall be well enough.
To start writing regularly once more again.
Love you all very much and God bless you.

I have enough anger to light a fire and do nothing but stare.
I have enough sadness to sacrifice who I am,
for who I want to be.
I have enough fear,
to find comfort in it.
I have too much.
I have so much, that I sit here, and reminisce on the days I enjoyed.
I've given up on finding happiness within myself.
This doesn't mean I can't see the beauty I experience.
The sound of rain accompanied
by the smell
I can't explain.
The consistency of the sun and the moon.
They chase after each other,
every day,
every night.
The moments they are together,
are the moments we admire.
They have a love story unlike any other.
Maybe,
those I pass on the bus,
will one day have a love story to tell.
Maybe,
the stars wish on us,
for their moment.
Do you think the water listens to the sand and finds it
beautiful?
I hope one day I find my moon,
I hope they meet me,
and we'll find our beautiful, too.
Maybe then,
our beautiful will be my happiness,
again.

Sometimes its the place
Sometimes its the Sequence
Sometimes its the Speed
Sometimes its the Randomness
Sometimes nothing
Sometimes Everything.

All alone with her memories
She tries to write a poem
It will be about life and love
And disappointment
The months disappeared into years
But the pain and joy go on
Forging her resolve to resolve
The loss, the hunger, the gladness, the sadness
The blouse she wears was given by him
Pulled from her closet on special days
There she is: sitting on that big rock
Staring into the Bay
It’s best not to approach her now
There’s really nothing to say