you asked me what love is today, little one.
I smiled and said,
love is your mummy and daddy smiling.
love is how we care for you.
love is the way we kiss.

I wish I could say that love
is always made up of comfort
and warmth
and a cherished feeling
spreading through your veins.
but it's not.
love is the tears stained into your cheeks.
love is the constant feeling of jealousy
because you can't bear anyone taking away
the only person who makes you happy.
love is sadness
love is broken
love is a knife
that twists in your stomach
every time he doesn't reply.

I wish I could say love was easy, little one.
It's not.
But it sure as hell is beautiful.

I was at a party last night
tipping poison down my already-burnt throat
because I thought it could help me to forget you.
however, I forgot my own name
and left yours stuck on my tongue.

they asked me for drugs last night
but they laughed at me
when I told them about your smile.
everything about you is addictive
to the point of me craving you every second.

when everyone had gone last night
and I was left alone to pick up
the shattered pieces of themselves
that they left on the floor,
I wished you were there.

in a way, you were with me last night.
forcing me to empty the bottle of *****;
whispering with your lips touching my ear;
occupying every single thought I had.
I thought I didn't miss you anymore.


I was wrong.
you were never the one that was missing.
you took me with you.

it was like
in the love that we had
I was the cracked earth
and you were the gorgeous drought
and we just couldn't find the rain

you were fleeting
gone
in an instant
but you left scars
on my heart
and in my head
and I don't think
they'll ever fade

You.
You are the sunlight that filters through the leaves on the trees, leaving a golden warmth in patterns on the ground.
You are the smell of the earth after rain, rich with the musty aroma that brought memories back like rivers, or floods, or waterfalls.
You are the deepest part of the night. You are the silence. You are the soft sound of breathing in the moonlight.
You are the whispers like peppermint kisses on my tongue.
You are the stars, the velvet sky at night, the fiery sunrises, the clouds that drift like smoke.
You are the sand between my toes, you are the snow crunching under my feet.
And you are so beautiful. And you are gone.

this is who we are:
we are seven billion
lonely souls
wandering this earth
trying to free
ourselves from this
heavy feeling
in our  chests.

stars are tiny holes
in Heaven's carpet
and they say that
humans are made
from the dust
that falls
through them
and can't get back home.

our flaws don't define us
they make us who we are
stretch marks, dimples
and all of your scars
each mark is a star
in your body's constellation
and though they tear us apart
we can't let them
no matter what
if we accept them or change
they will be used against us,
people will find a way
so we have to call them beautiful
look at them and smile
because they make us, us
they make us worthwhile

I guess I'm in love with you
although I don't really know what that means
but I hope it means smiling a lot
and holding hands
and long phone calls at 3am
when we should be asleep
but want to talk longer
and going places together
and getting lost somewhere maybe
but if that's what love is
it will be even more shattering
when it breaks my heart

she was red with love,
full of it; the feeling oozed from her skin
and dripped from her laughter like honey.
love stuck to the walls of her home
and she painted with it;
her life was a canvas and red was the colour
and your hands were her paintbrush.
i guess you didn’t realise
that her colour stained other people.
(his lips used to be blue but they’re purple now.
they probably taste different too but
you never asked her if they tasted sweeter than yours)
your own skin was the colour of moss.
dirt was under your fingernails.
your hair was full of splinters.
her hair was always so soft
even when you ripped it out of her.
she’s all red now.
even her throat is smiling.
she still laughs in technicolour.

I do not just listen--
I analyze,
because the story might have
a real different ending


I do not just glance--
I observe,
for the view might be different
on the other side


It is not wrong to be careful
on what you should believe in

No matter what happens
I am still the same person
Standing on the ground
Though I have learnt to fly

I know when to use my wings
While I love my feet