His blood, as red as lover's lips,
Engulfed his grasping fingertips-
For all his fight, he could not wrest
The arrow from his burning breast.
He felt the marksmanship was true;
The marksman, though, he never knew.
So there he lay in a blissful pain,
'Til love infected every vein.
— % &

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Human suffering is inevitable. The only thing that make it worthwhile is to choose a valid reason to suffer for..— % &

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It was late and we were walking home
When moonlight struck and stopped me dead
I looked back down to see me on my own
And you were 20 paces ahead
If only then you could have known
The path you took and where it led
You left moon and me alone
And I fell in love with her instead.— % &

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I write it down to leave my mark, for all that wish to see, so that when my bones have turned to ash, something will remain of me.
I would be forgotten and never known, when all who knew me were dead, but that shall never be my fate, if ever these words are read.
Immortality is within your grasp, your memory won't go away, for if you leave a piece behind, can you ever truly die?— % &

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Shall I compare you to a winter's night,
So Full of silence and replete with chill
That snowflake blown beneath a dim streetlight
All seem to crackle where they land until
Their belief and wondrous life are claimed by slush?
A miracle could melt beneath your gaze,
A choir of Angels fall into a hush
Behind your voice, and yet there is no blaze
Within your heart, I long to light one there,
But as I kneel, a blast of winter's breath
Rolls over me and lays my tinder bare.
Here is cold that rivals even death,
And mock the glowing lantern of the moon:
A love that lights, but gutters out too soon.— % &

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You didn't do anything beyond fall asleep, but it was magic.
You in my arms.
You vulnerable and next to me.
You not wanting to leave.
This is a bit of exaggeration,
But it was as if you already claimed
Most of the drawers
In my bedroom dresser,
Most of the real estate in the walk-in closet,
And 97% of the available slots
In my newfound hanging shoe display.
With each snore, a picture was hung or removed in my living room.
With each snortel, my bookshelf became more and more your's.— % &

-

Five lights in my room..
There are four lights
In my room
If you don't count my heart
Which lights up brightest
For you.

-

The sea has a kind of love,
Putting her blanket on the sleeping shore, while it
Keeps kicking it away. Could a secret mean something
Like a mother, silently stuffing a Christmas gift
Under her kid's bed. Hoping, that they'll find it the next morning
It could be a street sweeper, under
The streetlight, clutching on himself and his lonely broom
Secretly shedding a tear, under a lonely moon
Maybe it is a platoon of baby turtle hatching
Knowing nothing but to Crawl to the ocean, with their
Baby webbed feet and they don't know
Where their mother is, for sure, it being a secret: something kept from them forever
Maybe this poem is a secret: something only known between us.

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I was born with a mirror on my chest,
And that turned living into an everyday mess
Each morning, I'd wake up with only their reflection
Which made it quite hard for any introspection
So I packed my bags and left town to be alone...
"If I was by myself, the only reflection I'd see is my own"
But as I fled north, a new problem came.
When I looked at my chest, the reflection were the same.

-

Stark and bright in their hazel
Swimming with a colorful intelligence
Mesmerizing delicacy deserving appraisal
Reflecting her overall benevolence
Observing those around her unobtrusively
Taking in what other's just dismiss
Darting tru and fro almost elusively
Full of life, deep as an abyss
Brown and green forming a work of art
Painting a picture as beautiful as the skies
All this I think when I realise with a start
That I'd been staring too long in her eyes.

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