Loving you was never sweet like the taste of vanilla the way I thought it was supposed to be It was more like

There is poetry in nature better left to be spoken wordlessly by the breeze

I have whispered your name into the air so many times it has become the breeze that blows

I don’t remember any anesthesia after talking with you but I woke up stitched back

There is a girl and I love her and I have loved her since the beg… Or so it seems to me as I only became conscious

I spend my nights wishing on every star in the sky that you are alive and well

Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another

My heart was paper
 now folded six times over
 to make it harder
 to tear
 I only hope that


I see poems that need to be written scrawled in the shape of your smile and the lines of your face