She's a beautiful dreamer with eyes like an angel
A body to die for and a mind just like mine.
She keeps all her thoughts and dreams in a journal
The passion she writes with keeps growing with time.
Sometimes her dreams are playful and vivid
Sometimes her thoughts are scary and dark.
I wish I could be there to help and to heal her
And put back together her sad, broken heart.
If she just lets me in and gives me her trust
I'll hold her together and keep her from breaking.
I've already fallen for her beauty and charm
My mind and my body are hers for the taking.
So my dream girl exists I've finally found her
Scarred and beaten but a spirit unbroken.
She dreams about leaving this world with a ba...
Dear people of the world,
We are all butterflies unable to see our own beauty. Only others can truly see it. If people say you are not beautiful they are the caterpillars who do not see the beauty you posses, only your strangeness in how different you are. That does not mean that your beauty is nonexistent, only that they focus on how you are different and not the beauty and color of your wings.
Love from Ashlee Grace B.
There are three people standing on the top of a mountain. This mountain overlooks humanity and its entirety. They can see time pass, from the cavemen to the astronauts that went to the moon, to the scientist today curing cancer. One of them looks up at the sky and says: "Breathtaking." The only girl of the three tilts her head up too and sighs lightly. She closes her eyes and searches blindly for a hand of the second man. Their hands intertwine and she guides his body closer to her. Finally the last one of the trio aims his eyes at the sky too. There they are, three people, on the top of a mountain, having the possibility to see humanity and its entirety, yet choosing to look at the sky. They...
Forgiveness is a two-way street: whenever we forgive someone, we are also forgiving ourselves.
That air of intimidation blew me over.
The evening grew duskier. My Roman antique clock tick tocked.
The tenor turned cold. My phone kept ringing like one fire alarm. I ignored.
I ran down the staircase, only to be found alone in my home. I panicked.
There was a letter on the diners table. And it read just what happened above. The same lines written down neatly with no signature. I flipped it over. It was plain. Trembled was I.
I opened the door of my store room. The room was organized, like one cleaned up crime scene. But the pungency was hard to ignore.
I blocked my nose and walked further, into the corner of the room. She was there, waiting for me. Lifeless.
You've caught me.
In your bouquet of roses.
In your dance of passion.
In your old French songs.
I smell the roses,
I dance to your song of love.
I smile at the thought of you.
You've caught me.
Please don't give up.
Please don't quit.
Please keep trying.
I know it can be difficult.
I know it can be painful.
But don't give up.
I'm here for you.
At first when I was very very young, I was told that a home is a building you live in. A building made of bricks and cement and doors and windows.
So I loved mine with all my heart. Decorated the walls and the windows with little drawings and stuff. But then one day, I had to leave that house.
As I grew older, I realised that a house becomes a home because of the people who live in it. The memories they create there. The walls and the windows and the doors become witnesses to those memories as they are created, remembered and relived over the years.
So I decided to make a human being my home. For some time it was wonderful. But I always slept with one eye open. There w...
people with broken heart & the ones who tend to break,
His Love Is Accumulating Dust On My Heart. It's piling up. He who walks into my life first decides to run his finger over it. It's hell, hopeless & disappointing when the dust sticks to him & he wipes it off. Even my tears are unable to wash it off.
Loneliness creeps in like a black, disgusting devil but I've rose from the grave, dug in the way of underworld. I'm able to battle with him!
With his love,
Dear writers & readers,
Is so unbelievably strong.
Every soul, so supportive.
Every person, so kind.
Has a way with words.
A powerful way, a positive way.
A caring way, a loving way.
To everyone here:
Use your mind,
And you'll exist.
Use your soul,
And you'll live.
Use your heart,
And you'll love.
Have the courage to cry,
When nobody else dares.
Have the strength to smile,
When nobody else can.
Have the wisdom to love,
When nobody else will.
I grew up in a boarding school for about 12 years. Which meant that most of my life I was away from my parents. During the days when I was in a boarding school, letter writing to our respective parents was allowed once a week. We were allowed to write as many letters we wanted to every week. Back then this was the form of communication i had with my parents who lived in a far off village. I often recieved a reply from my mom or dad about their well being. As a kid who started writing lettrs to his parents at the age of 5, I developed the skills of write a letter to convey my love and my well being. I honestly don't remember how as a kid I did that. But my mom still tells me that sh...
Love yourself a little more.
You are a strong, amazing person.
Life gave you challenges,
And you have survived.
You are still here,
Stronger than ever before.
You are still here,
Growing wiser evermore.
Be thankful for the lessons,
That life has given to you.
Be proud of the choices,
That you've made.
Because they've made you,
Who you are today.
Amazing and wonderful,
Strong and wise.
So, love yourself a little more.
“Many people don't know about the hardships these young people have to face, and how they express themselves artistically when the regime says they're not allowed...I felt that anyone, anywhere could connect to having a dream, fighting for that dream and striving for it. " – Richard Raymond (Director)
Through history, artists have had to fight for their right to express themselves. What would you put everything on the line for?
Twenty years ago this day I married my soul mate, Araceli.
We had met a little over two years prior in Madrid Spain on a hot summer evening. She takes my breath away now the same way she did then.
I sometimes can't believe that she married a guy like me but every day is a gift that we get to share together. She is a wonderful mother and kind soul to all who know her. And believe it or not we wrote over 100 letters during our courtship that we still carry today. She is my inspiration in life and of course my singular reason for inventing lettrs.
Words matter because people do. They are what remains when all is said and done. Happy anniversary to PO Box 616, my Ari. May we go another 20...
- Strangers -
Their mother's funeral,
reunited after ten years,
strangers in their own house.