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I See You
Your eyes are windows. Through them I can see your soul, and it’s beautiful.
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You Are What You Write
A poem is a writer’s thoughts, a skill that cannot be taught. it doesn’t have to rhyme though, let your soul do the writing. It’s an art made by beautiful minds, that other beautiful minds can feel. Are you a beautiful mind? A poem can be just meaningless words that mean everything. Expression Love. Pain. Confusion.
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he’s the devil in a handsome disguise, but he needs to realize that I know the devil when I see him.
Still I trusted him… with every part of me. Maybe it’s stupid to trust someone so much. I knew what he was from the minute I laid eyes on him, but to be honest, that’s probably what I fell in love with.
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Teach Me
You’re new to me, but I love to learn new things. I want to learn what you love, what you hate, what inspires you, what discourages you. I want to learn what you look like and what you do when you wake up, go to sleep, and dream. I want to learn your passions and
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A Haiku For You
Well, I loved you then, I love you now, and I will love you forever. Although you only ever “loved” me because of how much I love you.
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Memories
There comes a time To say goodbye But we have to try Not to cry Because we know you won’t die Instead, you will be born again No worries, no pain Only strength you will gain We will not lose you We will still have our Memories
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Dreams Are A Bitch That Get Fucked By Reality
Up all day, up all night. This is a lonely war that I fight in my head, in my mind. Shit, there is no worse kind of regret. You can bet that any thought that scares me, is worse than your worst nightmares Feel that sinking, hearts aren’t syncing, I lay in bed thinking… and
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A Heart Made Of Glass
That there is glass that you hold in your hand, made with only the finest of sand. Take care of it, it’s one of a kind. If you break it, you’ll hurt me and I may lose my mind. Be careful, otherwise it could shatter, but maybe by then, to you it won’t matter. It
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It’s a dwelling love that doesn’t want to leave. It clings to me like your smell, And it doesn’t want to let go. It throbs ike the hurt of an old soul.
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Healing
The tears I cried for days, soon accumulated into a small pond. Wildflowers started to sprout like weeds around the crystal clear water. Trees, grass, and daisies were growing everywhere. Little animals would come to drink from my sorrow, and would thrive off of my tears. My sadness created a lovely oasis for others to
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