To a Dream ~


They say that, at some point, you just learn to let go. ✨

I must disagree. ✨

If it just takes one moment to let go, then you never really held on tightly enough. ✨

To a dream. ✨

To a goal. ✨

To a place. ✨

To a person. 💥

To go anything. ✨

I believe that you let go little by little. ✨

You let little, a then hold back on, but with a little less force until you fully release yourself. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

And the tighter you hold on, the more force you let go with. ✨

The deeper you dive, the higher you’ll fly. ✨

The closer you get, the further you’ll pull away. ✨

The weaker you feel, the stronger you’ll become. ✨

So do not be ashamed of your weaknesses. ✨

We all have them. ✨

You must learn to be kind to yourself. ✨

You must learn to understand yourself. ✨

You must believe in yourself. ✨

Never think that you are a bad person. ✨

Differentiate between your self-worth and your actions. ✨

To say that you are bad is different than saying that you made a mistake. ✨

You can’t fix yourself, but you can fix a mistake. ✨

And remember, not one person on this earth is perfect. ✨

We all make mistakes. ✨

We all fall. ✨

We all have flaws. ✨

We just need to look within ourselves and treat ourselves as humans who are worthy of respect and hope. ✨

Do not give up on yourself. ✨

Get back up. ✨

Be brave. ✨

Be happy. ✨✨🍃🍃🍃


Rain of Flowers

Love is a promise, love is a souvenir, once given never forgotten, never let it disappear.


Secret ~

“When you love someone truly love them, friend or lover, you lay your heart open to them. You give them a part of yourself that you give to no one else, and you let them inside a part of you that only they can hurt you literally hand them the razor with a map of where to cut deepest and most painfully on your heart and soul.”


Still I Rise ~

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust,

I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Still I Rise’ in my backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise.

Still I’m not your bloody slave


Beautiful Woman

The felicities of design in art, or in works of Nature, are shadows or forerunners of that beauty which reaches its perfection in the human form.

All men are its lovers.

Wherever it goes, it creates joy and hilarity, and everything is permitted to it.

It reaches its height in women.

“To Eve,” say the Mahometans, “God gave two-thirds of all beauty.”

A beautiful woman is a practical poet, taming her savage mate, planting tenderness, hope, and eloquence, in all whom she approaches.