More than every once in awhile,
More than most dreams,
More than just my heart,
More than anything,
More than you know,
And more than I can say,
I’ve loved you more
Every passing day
Stichwörter: love will butterfly-weeds laura-miller
Every small town that I had ever been to had had a caboose.
Laura MillerStichwörter: small-town train butterfly-weeds caboose
A faint smell of lilac filled the air. There was always lilac in this part of town. Where there were grandmothers, there was always lilac.
Laura MillerStichwörter: grandmothers small-town butterfly-weeds
Big events, small, mundane moments of the day–it doesn’t matter; the past will find a way to squeeze into the present–if you let it.
Laura MillerStichwörter: past julia butterfly-weeds
The past is a very determined ghost, haunting every chance it gets.
Laura MillerStichwörter: past haunting butterfly-weeds
She always used to say that the past is a relentless parasite in its quest, feeding off of the senses, looking for anything that will trigger a memory–forever there to complicate the present, forever there to remind us that it will always be a piece of us. I never had a clue as to what she meant, until now.
Laura MillerStichwörter: past forever butterfly-weeds
Here, Fridays were dedicated to the two Bs–Beach and Boats.
Laura MillerStichwörter: south boats beach south-carolina butterfly-weeds
His voice had this thick, Charleston accent, where every word had more syllables than ever intended, yet each word seemed as if it had been carefully chosen and presented in a way that only a man born and raised in the heart of the South could–distinguished and from a different time.
Laura MillerStichwörter: south southern south-carolina southerners butterfly-weeds
It was a completely new feeling for me–like someone had just released a million, tiny butterflies loose in my stomach, and they were feverishly flying up into my head and making me lose my mind.
Laura MillerStichwörter: love butterflies butterfly-weeds
A smitten smile unexpectedly shot across my face, and I quickly hid it as best I could–purely out of habit. Will Stephens doesn’t get smitten smiles.
Laura MillerStichwörter: love butterfly-weeds
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