Her kisses were moonshine and bullets, three shots to the heart, like a rose on the canvas of morning, like art, an eyelash on a poem that always makes me pause, three xs at the bottom of a page.
im am now undesirably happy I was once desirably unhappy but with sadness came comfort self pity became my favorite sweater and now overzealous joy is the cardigan I thought I would never wear in the back of my closet, where I wish it would have stayed change came in every season winter was now spring how I longed for the snow underneath my sorrow was ability ability to understand now understanding slowly slipped from my finger tips so do not gaze at me with a confused and disapproving glare while you sip from your every morning coffee containing precisely three sugars and two creams
I don't exactly believe in that saying that you have to love yourself before you can love someone else. You can love someone with every ounce of your soul and still look in the mirror and loathe yourself.
There're endless ways to write give vent to a joy or to pain heavy stuff or childly light sunshine or broken sky's rain.
It depends on the day the mood good times or bad on the way shapes the words your attitude color them the way you want to say.
Endless are the ways to fill the page rhythm and structure and rhyme clear as daylight or a maze depends how you're treated by the time.
You choose from the collage endless words that may sadden entertain when broken you may choose to show a face that by lighting smiles lessens your pain.