The warmth in his smile and the depth in his eyes are metaphors in my poetry.

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Most people write to be discovered,
the rest of us write to hide.

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And somehow her eyes seem to shine like the sunshine and dispel all my darkness.
Her voice was so soothing that it drowned out all the noises in my head.
Her embrace was so comforting that all my tiredness melted away.
She is more than just the hope of light that came after the storm in my life.

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"Are you poetry because you turn my thoughts into beautiful lines."

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I never found my name beautiful until he said it.

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Some of my writings are still in that abandoned notebook, which I want to burn.

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Why a person always shatters into pieces, while words are floating very beautifully.

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When the time couldn't heal,
Art and poetry did.

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Poetry will alive even though the person is die

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Even though the pain is healing but the scar is still there.

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