Fireworks Of My Heart Quotes

Maybe for some people, falling in love is an explosion, fireworks against a black sky and tremors rumbling through the earth. One blazing moment. For me, it's been happening for months, as quietly as a seed sprouting. Love sneaked through me, spreading roots around my heart, until, in the blink of an eye, the green of it broke the dirt: hidden one moment, there the next.

A thousand fireworks explode inside me, and I feel them in him too, in his lips on mine, and his hands in my hair, and he way we pull each other closer. Everything else falls away, and in this moment, when we touch, we are light.

I know life isn't always about bright colors and fireworks. Sometimes the colors aren't always clear, and our days get so hard they hurt. But settle down with me, hold my hand, let me kiss you. All I want is to know you more. Better than anyone else has before.

This life is a hospital in which each patient is possessed by the desire to change beds. One wants to suffer in front of the stove and another believes that he will get well near the window. It always seems to me that I will be better off there where I am not, and this question of moving about is one that I discuss endlessly with my soul "Tell me, my soul, my poor chilled soul, what would you think about going to live in Lisbon? It must be warm there, and you'll be able to soak up the sun like a lizard there. That city is on the shore; they say that it is built all out of marble, and that the people there have such a hatred of the vegetable, that they tear down all the trees. There's a country after your own heart -- a landscape made out of light and mineral, and liquid to reflect them!" My soul does not reply. "Because you love rest so much, combined with the spectacle of movement, do you want to come and live in Holland, that beatifying land? Perhaps you will be entertained in that country whose image you have so often admired in museums. What do you think of Rotterdam, you who love forests of masts and ships anchored at the foot of houses?" My soul remains mute. "Does Batavia please you more, perhaps? There we would find, after all, the European spirit married to tropical beauty." Not a word. -- Is my soul dead? Have you then reached such a degree of torpor that you are only happy with your illness? If that's the case, let us flee toward lands that are the analogies of Death. -- I've got it, poor soul! We'll pack our bags for Torneo. Let's go even further, to the far end of the Baltic. Even further from life if that is possible: let's go live at the pole. There the sun only grazes the earth obliquely, and the slow alternation of light and darkness suppresses variety and augments monotony, that half of nothingness. There we could take long baths in the shadows, while, to entertain us, the aurora borealis send us from time to time its pink sheaf of sparkling light, like the reflection of fireworks in Hell!" Finally, my soul explodes, and wisely she shrieks at me: "It doesn't matter where! It doesn't matter where! As long as it's out of this world!

If you ask all the cells in my body, they only answer your name. Follicles push the hair upwards so they may brush against your skin. Nails grow faster as well. Lungs breathe rapidly in hopes of inhaling your scent. Toes curl to smile and knees form dimples when you are near. Brain fireworks. Stomach fills with flies of butter and swallows, and swans swoon. Cattle, rhinos, and walruses too— there’s a stampede when you are near. I love you from the bottom of my liver to the tip of my lashes. One wink from you and heart stops, like a sneeze. Bless you. I cannot even begin to tell you what happens to soul, for soul is off flying with its mate.

He leaned down and placed his lips on mine and gave me the most delicious kiss of my entire life. I saw fireworks light up the night sky. My heart beat like a drum. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I loved him, and that made this kiss the best of my entire life. This kiss was the real thing.

And you are all my sunrises and sunsets, rain on green leaves, fireworks reflected in a smooth lake, and a wood fire on the coldest winter day. You are sex and sin and a guardian angel. You are every beat of my heart and every moment of peace and every hour of pandemonium. You are the sweetest torture I’ve ever known. And you . . . will never feel one tenth for me what I feel for you. And that, also, is perfect.

This deranged jungle of ironies coinhabits my skull like feathers and fireworks. My heart fills with stones. I am the mad aunt who laughs her head off at the funeral. There rises in me the most inappropriate hysteria in this most somber of places.

Quinn, I..." He whispers the words, unfinished, into my mouth as the space between us disappears and our lips finally touch. A thousand fireworks explode inside me, and I feel them in him too, in his lips on mine, and his hands in my hairm and the way we pull each other closer

I have a feeling you haven’t invited me here for kissing. Though it never hurts to ask.” He grinned at my ensemble and rubbed his hands together, mischief sparking like fireworks around him. “You’re dressed for sneaking about Dracula’s castle. Be still my thawing, dark heart. You certainly know how to make a young man feel alive, Wadsworth.

I try very hard not to care about the opinions of people who don’t have my best interest at heart.

The lights of London are burning bright across my retinas like we finally got our fireworks and I’m greedily breathing in Thea’s perfume as it clings to my receptors and she wraps my soul in a heart-shaped box.

I hit my chest with my fist, accusing my body of failing. I’ve had eighty years to adjust and never have. Am I broken? We’ll start there. No. You’re not broken. You are possibly the most loyal and faithful siren I’ve ever had. So, one of the best? Is it bad to tell You that I don’t really want to be good at this job? She swirled around my face and hair, trying to console me. No one with a beating heart could enjoy killing their own. I’m not human, I argued. I’m less than that. Kahlen, my sweet girl, you are still human. Your body may be unchanging, but your soul still bends and sways. I assure you, in the deepest part of yourself, you are still connected to humanity. I kept crying, my tears joining Her waves. Then why can’t I cope with any human contact? Elizabeth has had her lovers. As have many a siren before her. It’s not surprising, considering how beautiful you are. If it’s so typical, then why can’t I do that? She laughed, a motherly sound in my head, as if She knew me better than I knew myself. Because you and Elizabeth are very different people. She’s looking for passion and excitement. In her dark world, those interludes are like fireworks. You long for relationships, for love. It’s why you protect your sisters so fiercely, why you always return to Me even when I don’t call, and why you mourn so heavily at taking lives.

I didn’t say anything. I just took his hand in mine, and laid it over my heart that was still pounding wildly in my chest. I wasn’t sure why I did it, or where my logic went in that particular moment. Maybe I wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone in the way he felt and that the kiss had reignited something in me, as well. I didn’t know for sure.

I'm not sure when it began, that descent into the depths of falling without realizing I was doing so. Could it have been when you asked if you could keep me? Could it have been the moment that you said you wanted me to be yours? Was it the moment that you said I had never left, because in some way I'd always been with you? Was it when you said abruptly that I couldn't leave, or that you teased that I hated you because I was leaving you? I'm not sure. All I know, I became aware that i loved you when you kissed my nose, and my heart stopped. I knew then that I had to get away from you, because if I didn't it would be you, and only you. I became aware of it, when you dipped down to kiss me, and teasingly kissed my cheek instead. In that moment, my heart stopped and I thought, kiss me. I breathed fireworks, and you hadn't even touched me. I realized, it was already too late. You were in my heart, and I could never get away. It was like I'd stepped into quicksand, and my only lifeline was your hand held out to me, and in that moment I was afraid, but you apologized and said, "Na. I'm sorry, you are stuck with me." That is the moment, if nothing else were to qualify, that I was irrevocably yours.

Hush little baby, don’t you cry, Mama’s gonna sing you a lullaby, and if that mockingbird don’t sing, Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring. Mama, Dada, uh-oh, ball. Good night tree, good night stars, good night moon, good night nobody. Potato stamps, paper chains, invisible ink, a cake shaped like a flower, a cake shaped like a horse, a cake shaped like a cake, inside voice, outside voice. If you see a bad dog, stand still as a tree. Conch shells, sea glass, high tide, undertow, ice cream, fireworks, watermelon seeds, swallowed gum, gum trees, shoes and ships and sealing wax, cabbages and kings, double dares, alphabet soup, A my name is Alice and my boyfriend’s name is Andy, we come from Alabama and we like apples, A my name is Alice and I want to play the game of looooove. Lightning bugs, falling stars, sea horses, goldfish, gerbils eat their young, please, no peanut butter, parental signature required, #1 Mom, show-and-tell, truth or dare, hide-and-seek, red light, green light, please put your own mask on before assisting, ashes, ashes, we all fall down, how to keep the home fires burning, date night, family night, night-night, May came home with a smooth round stone as small as the world and as big as alone. Stop, Drop, Roll. Salutations, Wilbur’s heart brimmed with happiness. Paper valentines, rubber cement, please be mine, chicken 100 ways, the sky is falling. Monopoly, Monopoly, Monopoly, you be the thimble, Mama, I’ll be the car.

Grounded" I At the edge of sleep. my head on your breast. I hear your heart lock with the cloth pulse of a skein of geese. which arrows over roofs towards the source of water, dreams, oblivion. II Asleep on your front, your shoulder-blades reveal themselves as wing-stumps. Now I know what you have given up for me, for this November night, this moonlit bed. this sluicing rain these distant fireworks. And I think of migrants on the wing for weeks, filleting the air with sleep. Ill Today huge tethered kites — torsos, mermaids, lizards, bears— were animated by sea air, as though the next world hung above us like a mezzanine. Tonight I lie awake and run your absence through my fingers: here's the touch of you, your warmth and give. our conspiracy of flightlessress. Michael Symmons Roberts, Corpus. (Jonathan Cape / Random House; New edition July 20, 2004)

At what point in her life had she decided she didn’t deserve better than this? It was a startling discovery. The blinders had come off. Why was she putting up with this? She was prepared to end the entire thing when she looked up and saw Jarrod walk to the table. He leaned over and kissed his mom then held up a hand in greeting to the others before turning his gaze on her and Ryan. She broke into a cold sweat. Ryan stiffened beside her and the others fell silent. It was as if everyone in the room waited for the inevitable fireworks. Her head pounded viciously. Her stomach cramped and she wanted to die from the humiliation. More than that, she was so furious she couldn’t see straight. “Sorry, I’m late,” he said. “I got caught in traffic.” As he took the empty chair beside his mother, bile rose in Kelly’s throat. Her heart was shredded. She was bleeding on the inside, so hurt, so devastated she wanted to die. She refused to look at Ryan. How could he have done it? She didn’t believe for a moment that Ryan had actually invited his brother…had he? But why hadn’t he made it clear that he wasn’t welcome? Everyone stared at her. They likely thought she deserved whatever humiliation was heaped upon her tonight. But she refused to look back at them. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her so shattered. Instead her gaze locked onto Jarrod Beardsley and his mother. How they must hate her. The coldness in Ramona Beardsley’s eyes reached out to Kelly. They said, You’ll never win. I’ll never let you. What had she ever done besides love Ryan? Enough was enough. Kelly deserved better. She was through paying penance. She was done with being looked down on, condemned and forgiven. Forcing a smile in Ryan’s direction, she pushed back her chair and slowly rose as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She stared across the table at Jarrod and his mother and let the full force of her hatred shine. She didn’t care if they ever accepted her. She didn’t accept them. They could both go to hell. She’d buy them a first-class ticket. Then she turned to face the entire table. “I’m done here. You’ve all sat and stared your disapproval. You’ve sent pitying glances Ryan’s way. You’ve judged me and found me not good enough. To hell with all of you.” Then she turned back to Jarrod, her voice coming out in a low hiss. “You son of a bitch. You stay away from me and my child. I’ll see you in hell before I ever let you near me again.” Ryan started to rise, but she shoved him back into his seat. “By all means, you stay. You wouldn’t want to disappoint your family and friends.” Before he could react, she stalked away.

I want words which are scalpel sharp and shiny; poems keen enough to gut a fish and clean it. Poems labelled not for domestic use. The kind you keep on the top shelf away from the thieving hands of children. And I want to feed you warmly scented words; small loaves of wholemeal bread so you will remember the kitchens where you stood in a slant of sunlight and listened to the radio crooning somewhere above. I want to rock you with my mothering songs. I want my poems to fly out of your pockets--- a troupe of magician's doves, somersaulting in the air, a perfect explosion of soft fireworks. I want them to follow you; like Valentine's cards or bad cheques constantly re-addressed. These poems are birthed from some deep place. They wear that bruised look of the newborn. They will find their way into your sleep with their naked hands and greed. They will come to you like a lover, saying: let me bring you inside into the circle made by my tongues of fire.

I am queer for my lover's body. Horehound is mescalinestrong. Dazzling as expensive fireworks. One taste of my Horehound's feast and I beg for his tendrils to twine around my genitals like how a bull is primed for a rodeo. I am ready to be ridden until I kneel on the dusty ground, horns to the dirt, begging to be tamed. Tame me, my sweet, my bitter Horehound. Make me grow unfettered around your body, as your namesake grows. Lie still; let my tongue function as fingertips, my senses of touch and taste meld. Let me be the cartographer of your body I know how to start: from your left nipple, closer to your heart, where the pump of blood heats that tit more than the other. A more flavourful place to begin, no? Let me suck, childhungry, until it spurts bitter on my tongue, pushing my mission to the hollow under your left arm, again warmer because of your pumping heart. I will nestle in your brush, press my mouth and nose close to your skin, follow the flow of your blood as a paper boat in a storm drain does, forcefully, involuntarily, to your left wrist, kiss your fingers as if they were a sacrament, read the lines in your palm. I will find the oases, the monuments, the dikes, the hells, the battlegrounds of your body so I will know where to hide when you love me or when you fury me.

This knowing that when I woke in the morning, I was exactly where I wanted to be. With her. Because Quinn didn't just bring the contentment, the peace. She brought those sparks, those fireworks of joy. When she laughed. When she cried out my name in my arms. And with her, every moment was strung together on a thread of pure contentment.

And the winner is,” he sings. He waits, opening the folded piece of paper slowly, drawing out the suspense. I can barely hear him over my own heartbeat, which is thumping like crazy. Is it too late to back out? Shit. I don’t want to do this. “The winner is the person who guessed twelve hundred and forty-eight!” The crowd is silent, and all the participants look to one another. But then I hear a thump, thump, thump, thump as someone comes up the stairs onto the platform. I see the baseball cap before I see the rest of him, and I hope to God that’s Sean’s cap. But Sean didn’t even buy a ticket. Not a single one. Yet it’s his brown gaze that meets mine. It’s his baseball cap, and they are his tattoos. They’re his broad shoulders and his long strides that eat up the distance between us. He turns his hat backward and looks down at me. He stops with less than an inch to spare between us. “Congratulations,” I squeak out. “You didn’t even buy a ticket. How did you…?” “I bought one hundred and forty-two tickets, dummy,” he says. My heart trips a beat. “You did?” All he had to buy was one. I put the winning number on the piece of paper I gave him. He nods, and he takes my face in his hands. His thumbs draw little circles on my cheeks as his fingers thread into the hair at my temples. “You didn’t look at the paper I gave you….” My heart is pounding like mad. “What paper?” he asks. His smile is soft and inviting, and I want to fall into him. “The one you put in your pocket.” His brow furrows. “Never mind,” I say, breathless. He spent 142 dollars for a kiss he already owned in more ways than one. If I loved this man any more, it would be dangerous. He looks down into my eyes, not moving. He’s going to kiss me, right? “What’s the plan here?” “I’m going to kiss my girl,” he says, smiling at me. My breath hitches. “But you have to say yes, first.” He hasn’t let me go. He’s holding me tightly, forcing me to meet his eyes. “This isn’t going to be a one-time thing.” I can’t even think, and he wants me to commit? “It’s not,” I breathe. “You promise?” His gaze searches mine like he’s going to find the secrets to the universe there. “I swear on your life,” I say. He chuckles. “My life?” I nod. His eyebrows draw together. “Aren’t you supposed to swear on your own life?” “My life means nothing if you’re not in it.” His hands start to tremble against my face, and he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Logan’s brothers start to chant, “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss…,” and the crowd joins in. “You better kiss me,” I say, “or they’re going to get restless.” A tear rolls down my cheek, and he brushes it back with his thumb, his gaze soft and warm. His eyes open, and he leans closer to me. I step onto my tiptoes to get to him because I can’t wait one more second. He stops a breath away from me, just like he did in the room. He waits. “You have to close the distance,” he says to me. He’s making me choose. I fall into him and press my lips to his. He freezes. But then he starts to kiss me. And all the fireworks at the state fair couldn’t compare to the ones that go off in my head.

Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. Just believe. Believe in love.” She smiled crookedly. “If you have fireworks set to go off, I’m going to think something’s really fishy.” He took a risk. “I think we have to wait at least four weeks after the babies are born for the fireworks. At least, that’s what they said in my childbirth class.” She gave a little smile that broke his heart but at the same time gave him hope, so he persisted. “When I came to Eternity Springs, I’d lost my ability to believe in anything but pain. This place healed me. You healed me. Your love healed me.” Her lips pouted, and with a touch of petulance in her voice she replied, “I never told you I loved you.” Not gonna make it easy for me, are you? But he had won. He could see it in her eyes, the subtle softening of her body. He kissed her hands, gently nipped her skin, and said, “Then tell me now.” She wrinkled her nose and kept her mouth stubbornly silent. “I love you, Nicole,” he repeated. “You are my heart, my soul, my world. You and Eternity Springs have taught me an invaluable lesson. Even if tragedy strikes my life again and God takes you away from me, as horrible as that would be, I know that I’d survive it. Love can hurt, but if you’ll let it, love also can heal. It truly is a miraculous medicine. You believe that, too, don’t you?” When she nodded, her eyes now swimming in tears, he said, “That’s why I know that eventually you’ll forgive me. Love heals. Now, my love, you say it. Tell me you love me.” She reached out, grasped the silver medal that hung around his neck, and rubbed her thumb over the angel’s wings. Then she released the medal and tenderly touched his cheek. “I do love you, John Gabriel Callahan. I forgive you. Just don’t do anything so stupid again, okay?

My fingers try to grab onto the net. I’m pulled away too quickly, dragged through the snow. Everything is white and flying and painful. “Nick!” I claw at the snow, trying to slow down. There’s nothing to hold on to. I kick and kick. The hands clutch my ankles. Flipping my torso over I get one quick glance of their backs. They’re wearing parkas and hats and look normal, like people, but faster. I smash onto my face again and lift up my head just in time to see Nick snarling inside the net. He’s transformed again. “Nick!” I yell, but snow pours into my mouth. Sharp cold pain smashes through my teeth and into my skull. I cough and try again. “Nick!” He raises himself up onto four legs and howls, a long, searing cry of anguish and rage. My heart breaks for him, caught there. I have to help him escape. I have to get free. I kick again. “Let me go.” Pain shoots through my head. Fireworks. Explosions. All inside my brain. The white world goes dark and I know what’s about to happen. I’m the one leaving. I am the one gone.

My family’s leaving tomorrow,” Ned told Mariel at the bar. “But I’d love to take you out for coffee. Or maybe a beer. Or something else? Are you free tonight?” The two seconds awaiting her response became the most fertile pasture of possibilities he’d ever imagined. “Well, some friends and I are going to watch the fireworks by the lake,” she replied. “Would you like to come with?” Sadly, this was not a response he’d anticipated. If he had, he would’ve specified after the fireworks to Mariel, but now it was too late. The word “yes” rose from his heart, and was so big and meaningful it got jammed in his throat against what he was supposed to say. He was supposed to say he had plans with his family. They’d watched the fireworks out on their private dock together every year of his life. It was tradition, and there was no changing it. “Yes,” he said aloud, and he felt for the first time, in that moment, like a decisive man, capable of navigating an unpredictable future.

Grant smiles, leans in, and before I can even react, he kisses me. I could swear a million fireworks go off above my house at that very moment. I could swear the whole world lights up all around me and a symphony begins playing a song never played before just for me. Goosebumps break out all over my body as I accept his kiss because that’s all I can do. I can’t even kiss back because I’m in shock. Good shock, though. With that one single kiss, Grant manages to wipe away all the negativity from tonight and plant a golden seed in my heart.

Eric lost his temper. “You never gave our marriage honor! You always thought I would leave you! I should have turned you without asking, as I did Karin and Pam! Or better yet, gotten Pam to turn you! We need not have parted, ever again.” And then we were staring at each other—him furious, me horrified. We’d talked about my becoming a vampire one night in bed, after fireworks sex, and the idea had surfaced at other times. I’d always said clearly that I didn’t want that. “You considered doing that. Without my consent.” “Of course,” he said, emphatically, impatiently, as if my not understanding his intent was ridiculous. “Naturally, I did. I knew if you were turned . . . you would be so glad. There is nothing better than being a vampire. But you seemed repulsed by the idea. At first I thought, ‘She loves the sun—but she loves me, too.’ But I began to wonder if in your heart you really despised what I am.” His brows drew together; he was not only angry, he was hurt.

When I go back to work, will be sick When I go back to work will be fireworks I wanna serve people like there is no tomorrow If someone says Thanks I will kiss her or him (Even though, old folks have no real teeth) With no teeth, there is more room for heart With all my love, I hope me and the elderly never part All this will be consummated when I go back to work… My hope and dreams are so unlimited… When I think about going back to work. It will be like that moment when Proust sipped his tea And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent The disaster became innocuous, the brevity, illusory. Ah, when I go back to work… This sensation has an effect on me Which love has of filling me with a precious essence. Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? Did Joan of Arc feel it when she kept strong in front of the executioners? Did John the Baptist have this feeling when he says, the time arrived that I must decrease and He must increase. And he was right about it… Did Nicki Minaj feel it when the barbz looked away from Cardi B’s beckons of violence? Did Shawn Mendes keep strong when Justin Beiber feigned ignorance to his existence? We must stay strong in these times, and prove perseverance. For there will be a day that I ought to go back to work And it will be all of me.

Your life would have been very different if you'd been raised here." "How so?" "Well, for starters, you would have been given two very specific names. The first would be an official name that ended in -nomiya. It means imperial member." Right. His name. Makotonomiya. "The second would be a personal name. Scholars would have drafted a list of options. I would have picked one, then sent my choice to the emperor. For approval, of course." "Of course." "The emperor would have written your anointed names on washi paper and placed them in a lacquered cypress box with the gold chrysanthemum emblem. The box would have been sent to the palace, then to the hospital and placed on your pillow, right next to your head," he says in a low, warm voice. "After the naming ritual, you would have been bathed in a cedar tub." "That sounds nice." He swirls the liquid in his glass. "A floral emblem would have been chosen for you." My breath makes little clouds. The fireworks are over. Near the pond, fireflies appear, dancing over the water in concentric circles. It's cold. Even so, I'm not ready to go inside yet. "What would you have chosen?" My eyes are as wide as saucers. My heart is open. I want this to work so badly. I want my life to be different. Better. More whole. Superhero epic. "I chose the purple iris." The vase in my room----a single iris. He thought about me. He cares. My eyes sting. I bat my lashes against the tears. If he asks about them, I'll say it's the breeze. "It stands for purity and wisdom.

The first firework shot up like a tiny rocket going into space and burst open into a rosebud of sparkle. The boom reverberated in my heart. I lay there in the grass, watching the sky explode in color. In this moment everything felt right. I wasn't scared, and I wasn't sad. As I lay on the grass, watching fireworks with my family, nothing else mattered.

I’ll be honest, Etta. The last few days have been hard for me. I think I’m just sick of all this rain. Sometimes storms… they get inside. We all need the sun.” My heart aches. I would do anything I could to keep the storms away from Mom. I would learn to fly with no superpowers. I would stop the train from making fireworks. I will do everything I can. Tomorrow. I put my hand on hers. “Don’t be afraid. Everything will be okay.” Mom squeezes my hand. “I don’t want any choice you ever make to be governed by fear either. But I’ll admit, I’m pretty nervous.” “We both are,” says Dad. I want to say, Me too, but I stay quiet. “But you deserve more than that,” Mom says. “You deserve more than fear.

Residing in a Castle of Shed Tears" When the time comes around for people to encounter the end of their life having put on years, death seems to be quietly approaching It was not supposed to be my style to be frightened of that, but I am In the shadows of my loved ones footprints, distress revisits me at the dead of night refreshing my memories Being in love with and longing for you, I have locked myself up in this “castle of shed tears” Now may be the time for me to wander off into the place, the guidepost to the other world points to And the sky is waiting for me, attended by numerous clouds Overwhelmed by your tenderness that has always encouraged me I have been searching for “love” in earnest taking my wish for happiness along Let me call out to and ask the birds flying about in the sky I want to convey to them my feelings Over many long years, with art as a weapon I have treaded the path in search of love During the days I have lived through keeping “despair”, “emptiness” and “loneliness” all to myself along the way there were times when the fireworks of life “splendidly” adorned the sky Dancing in the night sky in a myriad of colors, the fireworks sprinkled dust all over my body I will never forget that exhilarating moment Now I think is the time to dedicate my heart to you, my dearest Was the beauty of the end of one’s life nothing more than illusion? Would you give me an answer to this? Devoting all my heart to you, I have lived through to this day Hoping to leave beautiful footprints at the end of my life I spend each day praying that my wish will be fulfilled This is my message of love to you

How will I forget the memory that happened on the 29th of September 2017? Bunso woke up early that day and asked me if we could paint. Of course, I said yes! I guided his hand in doing soft strokes in creating his requested "fireworks". Then I had to turn off the stove because I was cooking breakfast. When I came back, he was giggling and showed me what he did. He wrote the words 'I LOVE YOU' all by himself and he told me that he wanted to decorate his masterpiece with hearts and stars. I could not control my tears. Tears of joy perhaps because for the very first time, he tried his best to show his love and affection for me through art which he could not express through words. A moment like that has shown me how much God loves me. I may be experiencing struggles, doing more sacrifice, and adjusting to the needs of Bunso like other moms who have kids with special needs. At the end of the day, I know that there is a reason why God has given me Bunso. Perhaps He knows that I can love him unconditionally. Yes, I can and I do truly. I am so glad that he loves me too beyond words can express.

This was the best part of a first kiss. The anticipation. The clamoring hearts and the tentative sighs. The searching eyes and the luxury of knowing that something wonderful was about to happen. And when Matt's lips grazed my cheek, I closed my eyes and knew that, yes, I was exactly where I was supposed to be. And when he kissed me, ah... at last, I knew that in his arms was exactly where I planned to stay. All my senses swirled and merged into one big arc of longing as he held me tight. His kiss was perfect. Full of promise and hope and cravings that I couldn't wait to satisfy even while knowing I could never get enough of him. The Universe, just to make sure that we'd gotten the message, sent fireworks into the sky overhead, bursting with shimmering light. Or maybe it was just Clancy and the guys from the fire station starting the Lilac Festival show, but either way, there were definitely fireworks.