You don’t need to be deep to write. I found you can swim for hours through the depths of the most shallow person, so long as they’re honest.

There’s a simplicity in honesty, that’s what captures people. Not navigating through mazes of big words and made up metaphors that don’t make sense.

When you write, write lightly. Let your honesty leave the impact.

I wanted my passion back..
This was who I was, and I wanted her to visit.
Even for a brief moment, so I can kiss myself on the forehead upon my return.
And actually say goodbye when she decided to leave.
I wanted her back.
My passion.
I wanted my poetry.. Back.
She fled from me.
Lost underneath the city sky, with false illumination from street cars named desire.
There was no North Star for her to follow, no way for her to venture back to my heart.
Like a turtle needing the moon to be led to the sea, I doubted she would ever make it back home
Extinction was the roughest of all possibilities but to mourn the loss of a love held selfish tendencies
I only missed her cause of how she made me feel not because of who she was or who she could have been
The manifestation of my pent up frustration came to set me free
Just pull the trigger
Nobody will miss her
Oh say can you see- what I am saying?
All I wanted was my passion back.
And it wasn't until I found G-d that I heard three knocks on the door saying

Here
I
Am

It’s scary looking at someone that has every element and characteristic that you’ve asked G-d for in your most intimate prayers…

There’s something so nerve wrecking about looking someone in the eye and loving every piece of them without them even opening their mouths.

Realizing that you’re the ultimate side piece for it is from his side that you were created. He assures you of your position when he whispers, “I’ve found my rib” in your ear and takes your hand while he makes a vow to love you… And love you…
And love you.

And when they do, you stumble hand in hand 6 feet deeper into graves set in juxtaposition because so help me G-d not even death will do us part.

No.

How was this made for me?

When did you do this G-d?

Did he ask for me too?

I don’t have to, sit by the window anxiously awaiting a package anymore.
G-d delivered, my exclusive mailman. 

Shipping was free.

I just had to believe.

he wasn’t expecting my lips to be so warm

nor my heart to be so cold

he wanted to go by what he felt

and not believe what he was told

last night
I came to the conclusion
that
every time you leave, I
die a little inside
and
I don’t want to tell you
‘cause
if you knew
I’m not sure whether you’d
stay in effort to keep me alive
or if you’d
keep on leaving until I’m

dead

this morning, at 3:17

I was laying on your chest

awake

listening to your heartbeat

and I realized that

it is no longer my favorite song

goodbye

I would write you a poem

to tell you how I feel

but when you left

the melodic flow that

passionately pieced

my words together

followed you

out

the

door

A daisy haunted by sunlight
A painter of shadows    
Under the moon shining bright

An audience that follows
Eyes weary  
Like those of a barn swallow

Promises stretched like a tightrope
I'm an acrobat
On a slippery *****

A writer with aching hands  
Cursive amongst the draft  
Before it takes a stand

I had to smother this lust and aggression
But I found my enemy was my mode of repression.
Suppressed, depressed I watch them dance around
Regressing, listening to the music’s throbbing sound
I find myself sitting here in a lonely stupor
Disengaged languishing in this torpor
The sound of pouring: a dreadful mass
But I still won’t fail to drain my glass!