She was like a blooming flower
That shines every summer.
With the wind
That flows in her hair
And stars that sparkles
In her eyes
And the crescent moon
That curves in her lips
She made everyone
Look to her twice.
No, she is not inlove to anyone
She love that finally,
She learned to love herself

I stalked our horoscopes;
I deciphered the coffee grounds.
I even took the time piecing
the broken mirror back together
to read between the cracks,
in hopes I'd receive a sign.

The Universe told me to
stop searching the unknown
for answers I already know.
My coffee grounds suggested
that I needed to sleep, and
the shattered mirror crooned:
"Put yourself back together
before you try to mend another."

In English,
we’re learning about
Winston and Julia
in 1984, but
it’s 2017
all I want to study is
you.

I want to study less
about the
control and freedom
Big Brother has
and more about
the calculation of your
moves.

I want to study the way
your knuckles could be an
infant’s home, small
hands reaching out
longing for you
or the way the veins in
your arm makes abstract art,
beautiful enough to be showcased
in any gallery.

I understand now why they say
“as pretty as a painting.” Because
you’re as timeless and
breathtaking as
Mona Lisa.

And your blue iris's,
swirl with dark and light
tones with a slight
a golden glint,
I could stare into them for longer
than any
Starry Night.

Maybe,
I’m just better suited to an art class.
I want to learn the primaries
so I can swirl them all together and
get your dark brown hair.
I want to add the most expensive
white, so I can paint the
faint freckles on your nose and

I want to mix blue and red adding water
until the colour is a perfect match
for the faintest birthmark
on your shoulder.

Instead of the History of Russia,
I want to learn the History
of you.
I want to learn what makes you smile
and what makes you cry.

I want to study you,  
I use each brush stroke to
perfect your skin,
each pen writes down
notes until
I have a whole book
full of each heartbreak,
so I can learn a lesson
in you.

To know her is not just knowing her
name, birthday and her favorites.

No, to know her you have to notice all the
little things that make her, her.

The way her fingers tap when her favorite
song is playing out loud.

The way her eyes always search for that
one particular person in the crowd.

The way she holds back a smile when
his name is mentioned.

Most of all, how she is when she is all by herself.

Nothing shows better how a person is,
than their behavior alone.
Then she is a hundred percent herself,
and that, my love, is the girl you want to know.

So much to learn
so little time
be pragmatic
pursue that with the best outcome-

so much to love
fail not, make time
kiss those waiting lips
embrace the moment sublime-

so much to feel
as the emotions come
look not away from beauty
to the lure of deceit do not succumb-

so much to live for
keep away from every harm
inspire, nurture and edify
let your heart abide in the sea of calm.

There was a boy
I had never seen cry,
but every time someone mentioned home...
his voice began to waver,
and his eyes,
Well,
his eyes...
they misted...

My flower
is not beautiful
it has weathered over years
the first hands to touch it
bruised it with fears

My flower
is Not Innocent
over time it grew thorns
many of manhood it has
unapologetically torn

My flower
is not vibrant
petals have been plucked
what remains is dull
And covered in muck

However,
Rejoice

My flower
is still growing
Learning to water it daily
Reaching for the cosmos
And becoming heavenly.

You might not know the real me
The One you see and roams free
and the other whom you read locked in my poetry
I am a soothing breeze when heard
I could be a volcano in words
Gentle as a dewdrop on your window in a beautiful winter morning
I am the storm trapped in my pages rumbling and alarming.
Flip in the pages once ready for the thunder storm and fire flashes
You'll meet the whole of me once this dust settles.

You comfort me when we're together
It is silent when you are not around
You are the atmosphere
You live in the background
Without you the day is empty
With you life feels so profound
You do not exist
You are but a sound