clover.

“She wanted to run, but in a direction that did not exist,”

“I want my heart back I want to feel everything again—”

“I’m not used to being loved. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Do I exhaust you? Does the sky get tired of its heart burning all day long?

“I can’t exactly describe how I feel but it’s not quite right. And it leaves me cold.”

“I was quiet; but I was not blind.”

Her eyes are like velvet, the way only dark eyes can be, hers now are a mixture of still water and silt, revealing nothing at present except a kind of drowsy sweetness.

“I looked for love in things that were not love.”

“She had lavender in her hair, and roses on her cheek.”

“Let it pass; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.”

Know this: you can start over each morning.

Suddenly I realize That if I stepped out of my body I would break Into blossom.