#artists...

“A lovely rose with petals soft... A scent so sweet and light So beautiful a flower With colors shining bright. But something not so savory About the fragrant rose - The thorns, so sharp upon the stem, That sharpen as it grows. Yet still lovely is the flower Despite the thorns that prick Just as life and love are sweet They too have thorns that stick. But do not fear to live or love, Life's not exempt from pain - So pick a rose, you may get hurt, But you will also gain!”

He was still immersed in the dim, wet wonder of the folded wings that might open if someone loved him; he still hoped, probably, in a butterfly's unthinking way, for spring and warmth. How the wings ache, folded so, waiting; that is, they ache until they atrophy.”

Just have to.. Get up without waking him.

I had a dream my life would be So different from this hell I'm living So different now from what it seemed Now life has killed the dream I dreamed”

“She lends her pen, to thoughts of him, that flow from it, in her solitary. For she is his poet, And he is her poetry.”