Sometimes I sit alone under the stars and think of the galaxies inside my heart and truly wonder if anyone will ever want to make sense of all that I am
she lived with hurricane eyes and fell in love with the way the waves collapsed against her cheeks.
She writes things with her movements that I for the life of me could never write with a pen.
Not only did I love her, but I could tell the universe loved her, too. More than others. She was different. After all; I would be a fool not to notice the way the sunshine played with her hair.
It was rather beautiful: the way he put her insecurities to sleep. The way he dove into her eyes and starved all the fears and tasted all the dreams she kept coiled beneath her bones.
And in the end, we were all just humans.. drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.
