𝗛𝗲𝗿 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲.

In case of love, she has hope in love.

The quest for love, makes her in charge of love.

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There are days where the glow turns to a haze.

The praise from others fades.

Wishing you could have it all yesterday.

Searching for answers in cafes.

Looking for motivation through doorways.

Finding out kindness is always the runaway.

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There are days where the glow turns to a haze.

The praise from others fades.

Wishing you could have it all yesterday.

Searching for answers in cafes.

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Believe women.

It needs to be everyone’s mission, not just HER in the kitchen.

Believe women.

Lying in linen there is no permission given.

Believe women.

A mathematician counting the bruises and words thrown like daggers, pain can be hidden.

Believe women.

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YOU can’t see it. 

But you can feel the black dog chasing you. 

Part of your life’s strategy is to get on with things.  

Make them happen. 

Then one day you wake up and the pull of your universe’s motivational gravity just drops.

Ton of bricks. 

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Choice.

Easy to be taken away even harder to be guaranteed.

Choice.

It is her option.

Her preference.

A woman’s voice.

Where is the freedom? Hidden in the dark; muffled by his master’s voice.

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She is too much. I am too much.

Days are too fast and too furious.

Too much of a good thing and we are in too deep.

One too many and we will carry it too far.

Too close for comfort and it’s a little too hot to handle.

Too much information and we go too far.

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JOY can be worn with pink corduroy.
Joy is the feeling of good fortune.
You don’t always find joy on the television, rather it is found during blissful explosions.
Imagine finding joy in the forbidden, the confusion and the exhaustion?

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“Thirty-five.

Time to thrive.

To strive.

I can survive but want to revolutionise.

It is okay to make a sacrifice, but its important to make sure I prioritise.

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