I'm good at loving books. I'm good at loving soft bed sheets. I'm good at loving coffees and teas. I am good at loving things that can't love me back, that don't have the power to leave. And maybe, that's why I love them.

Remind me that the most fertile lands were built by the fires of volcanoes.

You have a heart of gold and I am kneeling in your bloodstream panning for the only thing that has ever felt like home.

You keep worrying you’re taking up too much space. I wish you’d let yourself be the milky way.

When your heart is broken, you plant seeds in the cracks and pray for rain.

I'm good at loving books. I'm good at loving soft bed sheets. I'm good at loving coffees and teas. I am good at loving things that can't love me back, that don't have the power to leave. And maybe, that's why I love them.

Touch me ‘til my ribs become piano keys, ‘til there is sheet music scrolled across the inside of my lungs.