“If a poem hasn’t ripped apart your soul, you haven’t experienced poetry.”
— Edgar Allan Poe
“If a poem hasn’t ripped apart your soul, you haven’t experienced poetry.”
— Edgar Allan Poe
Chipped nails and claw marks on my heart,
raw wounds cracking as the light turns to dark.
He whispered “I love you” softly into my ear,
I shuddered to think what he had in store for me here.
His touch dripped with venom onto my skin.
I was forced to stand there and watch the end begin.
As the distance (between us) grew,
long gone were the “I adore you”‘s
just
that girl, who is she?
YOU MAKE ME WANT TO SCREAM
The heavens, they cry out,
the love of their distressed creations now cast in doubt.
With my head on his chest,
we sobbed – “We tried our very best.”
Life and Death have been in love
for longer than we have words to describe.
Life sends countless gifts to Death
and Death keeps them forever.
Writers are the exorcists of their own demons
“He was like a song I’d heard once in fragments but had been singing in my mind ever since.”
Memoirs of a Geisha
You’re an ocean
and I am desperate to drown.
PART THOSE SHEETS
LIKE HOLY WATERS
AND I
WILL WORSHIP YOUR SKIN
LIKE A BORN-AGAIN
BELIEVER
Chasers of the Light
I don’t have a choice
but you will always be my first.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves that we are underlings
Julius Caesar
I write because you exist