He
Broke my wings
So I couldn’t

Fly

So I stole his soul
So he couldn’t

Die

little she did know,
her bruises had been
the fertile soil of
wildly beautiful flowers
and, her tears had watered them
to not just be a season bloom,
but a forever spring.

I know I should be done with you,
And Every time I’m ready to let you go,
I see your ocean eyes,
That dimple,
My whole world in one pupil,
And I can’t let you go,
They say the devil is charming,
But even he has nothing on you.

Is it just another perspective?
Or is it a much broader lie?
Is it what makes you fly into the sky?
Or is it that something that helps you through the night?

Is it just an expression of thoughts?
Is it just some feelings that you bought?
For someone, from someone?
Or is it everything that you sought?

Is it like writing your life script?
Or yet another piece of paper that you ripped?
Is it just some words you could gather?
Or is it out there forever,
Once you pieced those words together?

Is it just a combination of phrases and words?
Or is it expounding on a fairy tale that you heard?
Is it just a mysterious experience?
Or is it something more serious?

Is it an escape from this cruel world?
Or is it a declaration of truth with a banner unfurled?
Is it like God speaking through you?
Or is it always within you?
Maybe in different forms and styles,
Something that makes you stop and stay awhile?

Is it a catharsis of a tragedy?
Or something to help you keep steady?
Is it ever hostile?
Or does it always makes you smile?

i've been standing here
every cold morning
waiting for the leaves
to turn brown
until my breaths
are making clouds in the air
and misty daybreaks transpire

autumn, my love