Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.

Plato (via observando)

She only sees others
as dying stars
and him,
the moon.
And she does not
give a chance
for them to shine
for the only thing
in her sky
is the moon
who still gives up so much
for the sun.

A Story A Day #196 by M.D.L

(via mingdliu)

(via mingdliu)