i know it all ends the same,but i was interested in seeinghow you would break my heart.
There is nothing to save, now all is lost,but a tiny core of stillness in the heartlike the eye of a violet.
Some of us die long before our last breath. We perish in the fire of love, reduced to ashes in the consuming blaze. No, we do not die when our hearts cease to beat, but when they start beating the fir...
My heart's scripture tastes foreign in the mouths of cowards and on the tongues of those who have never breathed inthe moon and breathed out the world.
I really don't like art with a message, unless the message is crystal clear.If you have a message that really needs to be said, just fuckin' say it! Don't hide it in indecipherable lyrics... a sculptu...
A tamed woman will never leave her mark in the world.
The best kind of humans are the ones who stay.
Sometimes the most beautiful people are beautifully broken.
Asthmatic spewer of filth gasps, but clean air does not sufficeTo fuel fires fueled by thoughts got rottenLest we all be forgotten thingsThat sit like dust upon the mantel of her mind
I die a little,In the echo of your silence.
While he sweated out a story she bled put a poem. (Dark City Lights)
Use love as the only instrument to question the world around you.
Every broken piece of me fell on every broken piece of you and when I took the missing parts, like the emptiness of me I saw the emptiness of you and I poured my half upon you to fill you whole. I ris...
I kept loving and loving and loving. Every waking hour, I marveled on how these moments would make made me feel. I wanted to love the world and be the change it so deliciously craved.
With all honesty, somewhere between the hello and the dreams I saw you in I fell in love.
She was resilientA brave soldier when life tested herIt didn't matter that she did strange thingslike stand tall under the rainletting the drops kiss her skinthinking the storm was romanticIt was hard...
There's something about her.It's not her smile or grace,It's not her beauty or race,It's not her scent or warm embrace,Maybe it's her laugh or the shape of her face.No, that's not the case.It's just h...
my poetry is merely a body.you are the soul in my words.
A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.
I believe that poems die the moment they are outwardly expressed.