There was the blue sky above her and all those many roses, the ones that gave off the scent of cloves in the rain and the ones that left a trace of lemon on your fingers, the ones that were the color of blood, and those that were as white as clouds. Each one was sweeter than the next and as red as gemstones.

If we had paid attention, we would have understood there are some things in this world you cannot outrun.

Only her death could prove her innocence; a circle of impossible, deathly judgement.

Are people drawn to each other because of the stories they carry inside?

The grass he walked through was new and a sweet smell clung to his clothes. There was blue dye on his hands from the wild irises... that the color of the sky was a shade that could never be replicated in any photograph, just as Heaven could never be seen from the confines of Earth.

The sisters were glad to be together. They had the easy sort of relationship where they didn't have to speak to be understood.

Anyway, the sort of love that will not wait is probably best to pass by