poetry

On the canvas of life,Every sweep of the brush matters,Counts for something_

Love is who you are.

It is warmer here. Can you see the light? Trust it. It is safe. It has lived a long time. It has seen much more than you. You fight a demon that you once knew but the demon is already slain. And from the corner of your eye you will see the scattered, sacred fire reform again. Settle, settle. Peace, peace

People are laughing at me today for having holes in my pockets, and ink blood on my fingers- a thirty-something old writer, who strangles words from dictionaries, and feeds on the decay of poetry.

Being a blesséd writer is a cursed attribute, when you wish to no longer be encompassed by someone and yet you are surrounded by loose leaf papers filled with the sound of his voice.

Dear Lover,Your laughter is warm rain, and you are the rainbow.

what is a journeywithout someone who wandersif sometimes a pairis made of two

But life, they said, means life. Dying inside.The Devil was evil, mad, but I was the Devil's wifewhich made me worse. I howled in my cell.If the Devil is gone then how could this be hell?

solder. this is meand you together

I'd Drown For YouI opened my heart to youA complete immersionI offered my soul to youA heavenly diversion

She__ all the blood I__e ever shed. She__ every time I__e ever thought of death. She__ every time I__e ever looked at happiness and thought, __hat__ not meant for me.

I moonlight as the greatest actor. I smile. I choose the comedy mask every time. I tell those who worry that I am fine, that I always will be. There is nothing to gain from these lies. I win no awards, yet I bow. On that stage I tell my life story with the lightest of words, the heaviest of hearts. I bleed for the people who stay and watch. Behold: the comedy, the tragedy. They smile and cheer. They clap for this. And I bow, and I bow, and I bow.

I am still trying and trying to exorcise youbut you cling to me like mud or bloodstains,like a battlefield fought in my imaginationevery day that I raise my pen against the swordyou used to slice my heart into small, bitter pieces.

her grass seemed greener until a drought cameand cracked the earth beneath you.

Love Just Happens"Love just happensWhen you are not looking for it,Not paying attention,Unaware.You could miss it the first few times,But then, unexpectedly, Somehow this invisible magnetic energyPulls you and another person together.And you feel this beautiful magic,Like a gravitational force -As if the moon were kissing the sun.And their name,Becomes the most hypnotic nameAnd you die to see their eyesWhen you open yoursEvery time.Love just happensWhen you least expect itAt any locationAt any time.It never announces its arrivalBut when it does find youIts warmth is so strongIt may frighten youYou could close your eyes and feel itAnd feel themNo matter where you areOr they areEvery time.Love just happensAnd it happens to everybody.But some people have their sensors off,Or hide from it,Or constantly look for it.Just don't think about it.Open your heart and it will find you.It always does.Whenever you think it forgot about you,It will hit you.Just like that _ Every time.Love just happens.

Here is the simple truth about people: Love the ones you want to keep.

It was quite a beautiful thing, the way we simply just came to be. With no effort or trying, just slowly finding each other__ hands in the dark. No chains or promises, just a simple sign of hopethat things will go on and get better.

Though we met at the same station,we were but passing trains;on parallel lines,destined to never meet.