Some days your mind floats like dandelions,
wandering aimlessly
on and on.

Like magic,
like dust,
like time you cannot touch–
you are lost in your universe
crushing dreams and unweaving expectations

Until suddenly,
gravity pulls you back
into your sheets.

Your eyes,
hostaged in reality,
come back in its consciousness

You wake up,
let a tear drop,
and feel bad for breathing.

His actions hurt,
His words heal.

His eyes when open
Are quite unreal,
His heart in his hands
Dead and half sealed.


-- Eleanor

Love is complex. And for some it can be easier to not fall in love than to fall in love.

Because we'll be anxious fearing the worst, I'll be anxious, even when everything is alright and it's just in my heavy head.

The word for it might be sensitive, I try to predict the worst, and when the worst doesn't come I still find a way to end something good.


It's ok.
You're ok.
I'm ok.
Remind me.

Every time I here sirens,
I think of you.
I think of the lights I saw.
The reds and the blues.
I had no idea it was you.
And to this day,
I still flinch at the thought,
that it could be someone else I care about.

i miss you my poetic soul

He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come

Cold finger tips
Rush down my arm
Yet fire burns through my veins
Lighting me up
What I feel is not life
Rather a silver lining
Passionate yet sorrow
Filled with a vengeance that cuts deep
My eyes roll back
The kiss of death now comes

A sugary sweet smell
Of a flower
It twists and turns
Sharp vines puncture itself
Yet it flows along
When the wind comes it drifts along with it
But a rock can not understand that
The rock sits and stays
A strong silent type
Obedient in its own will
Not so much stubborn rather unsure