If I carved the words "I love you"
into every inch of my skin,
would you believe them?
Would you believe me?

If I painted a picture of my heart
with the very blood that it pumps,
would you cherish it?
Would you cherish me?

If I promised that there was no one else,
that there was only you,
would you accept that?
Would you accept me?

Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes
Which starlike sparkle in their skies;
Nor be you proud that you can see
All hearts your captives, yours yet free;
Be you not proud of that rich hair
Which wantons with the love-sick air;
Whenas that ruby which you wear,
Sunk from the tip of your soft ear,
Will last to be a precious stone
When all your world of beauty’s gone.

All it took was one look
One memory
One flashback
One feeling
I'm back again
I remember it all.
The sadness
The irritability
The feeling of worthlessness
The feeling of impending death
The breakdown...
I'm back again.
And this time may be the last.

Erratic breathing
in and out
Tears welling
in and out
Emotions spilling
in and out
Storm brewing
in and out
Stop breathing
in and out
Storm slowing
in and out
Emotions receding
in and out
Tears stopping
in and out
Calm breathing

I can fool anyone with the line "I'm fine" because no one cares to find the truth that lies behind,
I'm haunted with words in my mind that no one will hear because I'm the only one subscribed,
I'm alone in my own darkness that I've created with a spine twisted by a past that wasn't even mine,
I was told to be brave, to be strong, to be kind,
to live a life that was unreal because there's unlimited time,
but now the voices in my head
they're telling me to stop
they're warning me you were wrong and I should just give up.
I tell myself "I'm fine." but other problems arise
and the truth gets barricaded with bars of disguise--


I'm fine.

loving him is poetry
and kissing him is art.

i'm used to being the creator
but being created from the affection
in his hands
and sculpted from intimacy
is a feeling like no other--
he doesn't just look, he sees me
every stray brush stroke
every drawn line
every brilliant color,
down to my skeleton,
he strips me of pretense and glows
with acceptance.

i am a bared soul,
battered and bruised,
shaken and scarred,
but even so--

i'm something beautiful in a gaze
like that.

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...