I remember mostly how she makes me feel.
Her love is not fiery passion of bush in flames, but a calm fire kindle from beneath and brought out in soft whispers.
Christmas is coming, should I hang decorations or myself 🙂
Her love is not the loud hammer that shatters rocks, but the gentle drop of water that melts the stone.
What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes part of us