I want to have a romance so grand,it would have made Shakespeare fumble for words.
Poetry keeps mein a highly drunken stateof divinity.
tread carefullyinto my life, my dear.the currents are strong.you will get lostin this warm oceanof my skin.
Once in a while i am struckall over again... by just how blue the sky appears .. on wind-played autumn mornings, blue enoughto bruise a heart.
Look athow deeply flawedwe areand yet capable of lovingso perfectly.
wordslike mysterious mermaids come and live permanentlyin the soft sweepsand scars of my skin.
funny how our heartswere designed to loveso fiercely.but break ever so gently.
Not words. nor laughter. but rather someonewho will fall in lovewith your silence.
Poems can getsleepless tooand becomethe loneliest thingin the universe.
my poetry is merely a body.you are the soul in my words.
fierce lovers.and battle warriorsboth comefrom the same place. there is bound to be,some bloodshed.
the mostbeautiful tideis the sweepof your heartagainst mine.
At the end of the day all we ever need is something that helped pass the time and something that keeps time from passing.
How strange and ironic it is- all the words i long to sayare lost in words.
i have known yousince the beginningof timethe one i have loved alwaysin spirit.only just discoveredin person.
believe me when i say this.when you lovesomeone.you can travel the worldin their laugh.
What you are trying to let go of...is already gone.
i writebecauseit is the only wayi can reach you.
sometimes i wake upin the middleof the nightand findpoetry splatteredall over my bed.
poetry. i am not writing it.(make way for me please)it is my skin. dripping with light.
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