Don’t let me in,
I’m filled with hopeless stories and dead oceans.
Rooks are over me, picking at the strewn sore.
Getting closer to me is like leaping into the choke itself.
Stay safe with all your attractive blessings.

Into his hundred senses of delicacy and humour, I noticed a lexicon; an enormous candy factory, filled with sweet expressions and sensitivity, luring the outrageous cabin of mine, expanding the prettiness of the English grammar, idioms, and phrasal verbs into my illiterate tiny bunch of rebellious books. I sensed a great copious number of complex poems, rich of enchanting verses, fascinating stanzas that patted on my typos gently, guiding them into a better asylum. I wandered all around his incisive vocabulary, and for a while I lost my melancholy when he sluiced my dark excursion down. I loved him with all my misery. Yes, I did.

This trap is familiar, full of integrity and decorum,
I wished I could turn it into a safe spot.
I loved how it looked, and for once I pushed my impulsiveness into a bleakness, so I couldn't sense where this pain was shrieking from.

Above the appalling ruin, you created an icy universe.
I received nothing but shock, my eyes wandering around in miserableness. I used to yearn for garden lullabies. Deep into your bewitching gaze, I couldn't ask for more, but I committed some tender rituals within your velvet lakes, overdosing on the sanctuary when crows were nearby, cawing for more melancholic offerings.
What kind of obligation would make your full-time miracles mine?