Beauty is not who you are on the outside, it is the wisdom and time you gave away to save another struggling soul like you.
She is a rare rose. One which blooms in the night. She hides from the world. She is tender and sensitive. You can only see her from afar. Don't try to go near her. She may disappear forever from this world.
in the afterglow of an evening rain i lay down in the grass and think of you my body aches like an after-kiss breaking in soft fires and wildflowers my dear, i will always be this tender for you.
People like to warn you that by the time you reach the middle of your life, passion will begin to feel like a meal eaten long ago, which you remember with great tenderness.