Maybe the reason
I never see your face
in my
dreams.
Is because my mind
Could never
Replicate such,
Beauty.

When he asks you to write about him, remind him that you are not that kind of poet. When he asks you to describe his eyes, stop yourself from telling him how bright they are and how they remind you of the stars you stare at in the late night. Do not tell him they are brighter than any of those stars and while they may not light up the whole sky, they sure as hell light up your heart. Instead, smile and tell him that they are just blue – nothing is very special about them. He will ask you why your hands and lips tremble when you're with him, but you mustn't explain how fast your heart beats when he looks at you, or how sometimes you swear your lungs fill up with smoke when you hear him laugh soundly because of something you said. You shouldn't write about him, because you're not the kind of girl that writes about someone who could be here one day, and easily gone the next.

Poetry
Is
Wine;
It
Should
Be
Drunk
By
All
As
It
Is
Permitted
In
A­ll
Religions!

it comes in flashes
bright, red-hot
you feel it take over and if you feel it fast enough,
you can destroy everything in your path within moments
you spew words like venom and leave scars without thinking twice
and when it's over and done with,
you hate yourself for it.
this is what anger is,
this is how you have made cynics out of every person that's ever loved you.

In the grace of your undying presence
Voices, all those scattered voices in me unite
In the light of your abducting black eyes
My bleeding heart begins to write.
It is your beautiful restlessness
That tears me down and builds me up
It is you and your silence
That flows in me.
In the heat of your blazing soul
My veins have hardened into steel arrows
Which caress my heart to and fro
Until it wails like a haunting violin.