sharp nails across the woodfloor,
soft fingers diving into the piano,
or the water; streams and rivers,
it does not matter.
you still come back up for air.
even if you refuses that you have to.

a l o n e is never lonely
l i f e is never pretty

when fruits were offered,
blessings were awaited for.
it does not matter.
sometimes fate does something,
sometimes we create and have to create our own.
each breath counts.

n i g h t s are not always cold
d a y s are not always gold

we write down the anger,
smash down the lies.
when we kiss our lovers goodbye,
we miss them so much we cling and sigh.
how come it is so hard.
loving ourselves we realize our worth.

this book closes
no more chapters but i will see you then.

—if you wish for something, work on it too.
and if you pray for something, listen for the answer, wait for what is true.