She calls herself a poetess.
Everything around her flows
like the verses of her poems,
So poetic!
She looks for words everywhere,
Under the table
Between the pages of a book
Behind the tree
In the sky
and in her soul...
Her heart is an ocean of feelings.
Someimes she drowns in them,
But sometimes I find her
playing with the most dangerous tides.
She writes on the pages
like rain from sky.
Moments breathe alive in her poems.
And with each passing day
poetry becomes an indelible part of her.

I watch you sleep,
as the sun wakes up.
You slumber,
as songbirds,
chirp themselves,
awake.
Is it odd,
if I count,
the eyelashes,
that fall on your cheek?
Wishful thinking,
for time to pause,
even just for a moment.
Love,
Me.

What witered away was not your love but our trust.

I've seen your eyes
and I've heard your voice...
They don't say the same.

If I were a color
I think I'd be baby blue
a clear sky just after dawn
soft
delicate
that perfect reflection in almond eyes
open doors
new opportunities
I guess you could say it almost feels like

home.