His story is History, My Story is Mystery.
Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.
The spaces between your fingers are meant to be filled with mine.
True love has a habit of coming back.
Not even a million fights could make me hate you.
The heart has eyes which the brain knows nothing of.
His story is History, My Story is Mystery.
Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.
The spaces between your fingers are meant to be filled with mine.
True love has a habit of coming back.
Not even a million fights could make me hate you.
The heart has eyes which the brain knows nothing of.