Your problems are not
Yours
They are mine(God)
Just trust me
Believe me
Have faith in me
Do your work
I will be guiding you

Love creates a path
Or a bridge
Among us
Through which we
Will pass our care,
Will share our happiness,
Will send everything
Only light that can win dark
So as
Only love that can win hate
Share it and
Get it

do you remember?
we sat by the shore
drunk on moonlight
and bitter starlight

we stumbled in the wet sand
collecting strange seashells
and i wept at the terrible sight
of the end of the world

cheap wine burning inside
veins both young and old
our bicycles laid in the tall grass
like ancient metall lovers dead

i counted a thousand stars
not in the midnight sky
but in your hidden eyes
you counted thirteen battleships
inside my heart

and thus we made love
like foolish wild things do
on a beach with strange seashells
and we wept at the terrible sight
of the end of the world

His love for her made her
More like him.
Her love for him made him
Like her more.
His love for her made him
More like her.
Moreover, for them,
She made love more like him.
He made love, at her whim,
More like her than like him.

She cannot sort the grain. After all these trials, I have been lost yet again. —But fairy tales have been this ruthless before; myth has given me wings, has painted my shoulders with fur, with scales, with scars. Legends have broken me down into all the smallest invisible facets of myself until I could do no more than vanish entirely. Who will love me behind the walls? Within my keep, another girl's impatient hands will light the candle to gaze upon sleepless eyes, and wake within me all the anxious demons hiding inside Pandora's Box.

I catch myself thinking about your lips, again.
And one particular smile; I find it mesmerising.
Wryness and sadness and resolute strength,
That gentle smile, that almost smile, that 'shall I...?' smile.
There's a no-surrender steel to your stare, a hardness
In the set of your shoulders, the tension in your neck,
But your lips are all softness and so, so sweet
I imagine them to be; a piquant sweetness,
Mixed spice, vanilla and burnt sugar.
I catch myself thinking about your lips, again,
And wishing I could taste them.
My fingers to my own, I gently ****,
And lose myself in a cinnamon dream.