I want to write you
I want to put your smile into epics
Your eyes into ballads
Your kisses into rhymes
I want your hands as a free verse
Your smell a pastoral poem
Every word you speak is like a love song
And I want it
“Tattooed on my soul”
Forever
I want to write everything about you
And fill a thousand books with you
My muse
My love
I want it to well up in my ink
To overflow
Spill off every page
Like I feel your love spill
Onto me
I want to write your every detail
As only a lovesick poet could

look like the flower
but be the serpent beneath
Teach for the hour
But speak only for minuets
Love for the Passion  
But subdue- to gain control.
Climb for the high
And always suffer as you plummet
Remember the happiness
And weep, when you feel its echo

A unique love owns
Both me and my Father (and brother)
As it's special homes
Found within one another
So be what you are.. dare and think and move free
But humor always
the lover
your dad raised you to be.

I, in blue-dress tie-flowered vines, the brown-root wonder of the greatest lake.

You, the tan-wash whirlwind of the highest brigade, the first glint of silver skipping rocks in the daze.

Slipping past all for a touch, so crystalline, a split-stalk switch with vines intertwined.

Warm and cool in clouds strapped hostage to the sky, with smiles on wet faces breathing in the sunny side.

I keep telling myself
“Just one more hit”
“One more line”
“One more night”
But every time I see you or the ice,
my addiction is back once more
and i’m left looking
searching
begging
for a high like the one i got from both of you.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

the burned
hollowed out
husk

the emptiness and
the ache

hands full of bruises
full of blood

gardens don't grow
when you plant them
in ashes.

This disease struck me
Like a brick on pavement
Hard

Everything was
Perfect
Then that brick came along
And with the slightest movement
Destroyed everything

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
The voices say

Why can’t I let them go?
They keep repeating:

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
Why won’t they stop

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
I don’t understand

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
Someone just HELP me understand

This disease is about
Perfection
But it's the biggest
Imperfection about me

I was drowning
I was drowning because you
Pushed me past the edge
Off the cliff of sanity.

I struggled through the riptide
The waves grabbed me by both arms
Thrashed and almost smashed
Into the rocky shelf.

I tried to swim and I sank
I sank to the ocean floor
I sank until I let go
And finally floated to the the surface.

I LIKE TO SAY YOUR NAME

I like to say
your name

when you're
not here

turn you
into sound

conjure you out of
thin air

so that you appear
before me

dressed in sound
only

memory sketching in
the rest of you

as if sound
was just an outline

and love
colours you in

adding the voice last
so I can hear you say.

"Hello you..!"
and there you are

as present
as present

can be.

I like to say
your name

when you're
not there.

So many people focus on finding love
I'm too busy finding myself

"I'm an open book"
She says

Written in
code.

If this day never came then I don't think I would have Met You.
But I'm glad that this day came and I got the chance to Meet You my dear friend .
I really love this day.

i’ve wanted to be a mystery for as long as I can remember. my whole life, i ached for someone to wonder about me, to need to know more, to write pages of poetry about me, to feel love songs in their body when they saw me. i desired words of love and lust and wonder to describe me. i never understood what i was doing wrong, why i wasn't receiving bundles of pink, heart-shaped valentines full of adoration for me, why i couldn't seem to make anyone curious about who i was. i'd watch others only share small pieces of themselves to capture the hearts of random lovers, and i so wished to do the same. i know that, deep in my core, that's not who i am. my heart is tattooed on my sleeve, and every emotion that goes through my mind appears right across my face. i feel too much, there's no way around it. no one will ever wonder about a girl if you can easily see what she's feeling. i've tried to crush that part of myself, tried to drain my body of all the excess feelings. it refills though, like a river after a drought. the water always returns, most often in storms. the feelings rush into me and make it impossible to mute them. i've come to the conclusion that i will never be a person that a stranger on the bus sees from across the aisles and thinks about for the rest of the day. that those who want to be wanted rarely get that. that i will forever be the one who writes poetry about someone, and it will never be the other way around. it hurts, but i've realized now that no blurry, rushed words about a love for me will ever grace a page in a diary, even if that's the only thing i need.

but you see -
she has
a tendency
to be silent
when it gets
real loud
inside her head.

If our souls were stones
Washed by the torrent of the river
Just below the falls
Where the water eddies and flows

And if there was nothing more to question
Or to know

And the weight of the world could simply rest
In the warmth of a river bed
On a summer evening

Then, there would be no more threat
In love
And we could let it rush between us
Like water across the rocks

And there would be peace in your presence
Laid gently
Beside me

And there would be no need to talk.

You say I caused the end too
But I never remember choosing someone over you

I was so broken
So broken that I let myself believe
That the love you gave me
Or - the lack of it
Was what I deserved
That it's supposed to be like this
Because love always hurts

Right?

You don't know
why the dog is
afraid of you:
I do.

I'VE been crying

JUST quit hurting

TRIED to live on

TO you

FORGET the hurt

i've just tried to forget

she is a happy ending,
not everyone can wait for.

after a long monsoon,
the sun dries the cloud's tears.

heart made of glass
my mind of stone -
a soul made of fire
eyes burn alone
raising my voice and
walls of fear
someday i'll make it
out of here -

Dear HP,

This is not a poem
But a question
The answer to which
I do hope you have

Why does my lover claim to love me
But still looks for every opportunity
To let me go?

Is it that she loves me so much
But doesn't think she's worthy of me

Or she doesn't love me enough
To think I'm worthy of her?

The shadows are my protector
I’m in lust with a bad spectre
My ancestors they select her
Masculine hero on a ******