There are too many mediocre things in life to deal with and Love should not be one of them. Your life and my life flow into each other as wave flows into wave, and unless there is peace and joy and freedom for you, there can be no real peace or joy or freedom for me. Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell. Nothing spoils the taste of peanut butter like unrequited love.
Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.
When I see you a blanket of stars covers me in my bed. They call them fools, who are unable to resist the slightest chance love might exist. When I told you I loved you, I meant it, but only because I wanted to please you. When I touched you, and my eyes told you I loved you, I meant it because I'm bad at lying. Claire Breaux Poetry is an impish attempt to paint the color of the wind.