Every poem I write is of you.

I write of your chiseled jaw and cheeks.

I write of your collarbones, from whose depth I could drink wine.

I write of the bed of stars you laid me down upon.

I write of your golden skin under the soft white sunlight.

I write of your eyes which remind me of the moon.

I write of your spine which resembles the solar system.

I write of my love and of my man, whose entire soul resembles the composition of the universe.

And I can only hope I am a galaxy within it..

(i. r)

my love for you deepens
one day at a time.

each moment of love illumines
another till it shines forever.

sometime
the need to write
scribbling words on paper
is as strong as the need to write
but the thought scares me
and so
i push the urge deep down
and hold my breath
but then
i cannot hold it any longer
and i let it out
letting the writing become me
an when im done
tears flow
not because the writing is beautiful
but because it is captivating
to let loose those things that i kept hidden
and because
i finally allowed myself
to breathe

The world is sleeping with gun
under its pillow.
Dreaming of fantasies
to shade its broken windows.
People against people,
souls against souls.

The world is sleeping in terror
beneath the moonlit night.
'Tis the coldest war of the year;
raining tears from the skies.
Yet every cloud has a silver lining;
tomorrow is never been frozen.