when i write of you, my deari am holding youin the most exquisiteways.

Poetry has saved me on occasions when people couldn't.

i have known yousince the beginningof timethe one i have loved alwaysin spirit.only just discoveredin person.

How strange and ironic it is- all the words i long to sayare lost in words.

I find it incredibly amazing how at every sunset, the sky is a different shade. No cloud is ever in the same place. Each day is a new masterpiece. A new wonder. A new memory.

how is it thathe's alwaysin my thoughts. even when i am not thinking.

we always knewthat good times camewith termination contractseven if we weren't quite readyto sign it.

our feet are grape-squashed in memoriesour skins are still flushedfrom the touch of summer’s lips.

I write because there are things in me that cannot die.