She isn't the only sunflower in the garden, but she's the one I'd always pick.
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Sometimes i regret everything.
They tell me not to have regrets. i don't think it's in our hands. We'll always regret the choices that we did not make. And sometimes the choices that we did make.
They tell me not to have regrets. i don't think it's in our hands. We'll always regret the choices that we did not make. And sometimes the choices that we did make.
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Forwarded from Ravi
You're my father's movie recommendation and the recipe that my mother picked from Grandma
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I want to cook in the kitchen with you.
I prep the spices, you rinse the veggies.
I dice the garlic, you laugh at how I chop.
I google a baking soda substitute, you stir the soup.
It really is easier with two.
I want to enjoy a meal with you.
I pour your wine, you wish me cheers.
I put more salt, you tell me there's enough already.
I make bad jokes, you somehow still laugh.
It tastes more bitter alone.
I want to clean up with you.
I take the trash, you clear the table.
I wash the dishes, you dry and put them away.
I wipe the counters, you finish your wine.
What will I do with all these leftovers?
I prep the spices, you rinse the veggies.
I dice the garlic, you laugh at how I chop.
I google a baking soda substitute, you stir the soup.
It really is easier with two.
I want to enjoy a meal with you.
I pour your wine, you wish me cheers.
I put more salt, you tell me there's enough already.
I make bad jokes, you somehow still laugh.
It tastes more bitter alone.
I want to clean up with you.
I take the trash, you clear the table.
I wash the dishes, you dry and put them away.
I wipe the counters, you finish your wine.
What will I do with all these leftovers?
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From that very first glance, I knew. It wasn't just your beauty that captivated me; it was the soulful symphony that played in your laugh, the poetry written in the lines of your hands, the stories your eyes told without a single word. You were not just someone I had met; you were the missing piece of a puzzle I had been unknowingly assembling all my life.
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A hug is like a language all its own, speaking straight to the heart when words stumble. It's a gentle squeeze that whispers love louder than any words can. Each embrace tells a story of care, stitching up hurt feelings and weaving bonds.
The human touch is a lifeline, essential for our well-being. It's the warmth that breathes life into our existence, nourishing us from within, it's like being cocooned in a heaven of comfort, surpassing the power of any spoken word.
The human touch is a lifeline, essential for our well-being. It's the warmth that breathes life into our existence, nourishing us from within, it's like being cocooned in a heaven of comfort, surpassing the power of any spoken word.
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You will hurt people. You will hurt, and you will be hurt. However, you will also love, and you will be loved in the most magnificent ways. To live life is to understand that together these extremes thrive within us - our heart is both a blessing and a blade. To put our soul into the hands of someone who could wound it or heal it is quite possibly the most courageously beautiful risk we take. It is like looking someone right in the eye and saying "You may hurt me, but you may also love me, and I am willing to take that chance. I am willing to trust.
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I wonder if the things that reminds me of you, remind you of me.
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If only you spoke to me as much as i wanted to speak to you. All it would take was a hello. So as you leave now. All those stares that we gave each other into the pits of our eyes will end up being just past moments and nothing more. What did those longing stares mean. Was i not enough to let you come to me. I was waiting. A present to be opened. I'm sure i could have let you feel more than anyone else would've
The feeling of wanting to set that one person free but also hoping for that person to come back in your life.
Is it selfishness?
Is it stupidity?
Is it loneliness?
Or is it love?
Is it selfishness?
Is it stupidity?
Is it loneliness?
Or is it love?
There's so much I wanna tell you. I think about you everyday. my letters are white, but they dig deep and make my eyes water. This is what being away from you feels like. my heart feels like a home of yours more than it has been any of mine
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A thousand times have I said it to her and to myself: the most beautiful is also the most sacred. And such was everything in her. Like her singing, even so was her life.
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You don't know what it means to be loved by someone who's tired, someone that despite their inner bitterness, they try to love you with all the sweetness in the world and despite all of the chaos that lives within them, they tidy themselves up for you.
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