I have waltzed with wolves and howled at the moon. But my heart will always remember the slow-dance that ended much too soon.

He kissed her good morning like she was the reason sun decided to shine.

If I had known his favorite game was mental twister, I would have suggested a movie over game night.

How is it that hearts hold on to memories with the strength of hope and possibilities.

Your memory straddles my mind.

There are days when I want to dip my soul in memories and just soak. Then there are others where I'm praying they'll be washed away.

If everyone only gave a fraction of the compassion their hearts are capable of giving... how much suffering could we alleviate in this world?

I'm not simple. Loving me will never be easy. I bring every travesty that's rocked me- with me, to the table. I won't pretend to be something I'm not, and I don't expect you to be blemish free either. That's much too boring of an existence. A past means you've lived, you've prevailed. My ears are open. My heart is accepting. I want to know how you are. I want to know what made you... and I want to feel free to share the 'not so pretty' parts of me, with you.

You are not disposable. I know you feel that way when people choose to walk out of your life, but their emptiness causes space. And that vacant area of your life is desperately crying out for the one meant to take up residence. Let the angry tenant go. You don't want someone staying because you've begged and pleaded for their occupancy. You want the one who sees your quaking heart and says: "Honey I'm home".