I'm a prisoner in my own city
with invisble handcuffs
and a target on me
no matter what choices I make
you'll still never let me be free
I just wanna fly
but everytime I try
you shoot me down
because the sky was meant for the birds
but don't you see,
i'm a bird too
so why won't you just let me be

But when you see the stars,
Do you think of us?

Do you remember when you breathed life into me, and ignited a fire in my soul?
When you started a feeling so profound, it brought to life every cell of my body?

When you go to sleep,
Do you dream of me?

Do you imagine a new ending, where our paths join back together once more?
Do you ever feel remorse because this could have been more than what it was?

When you wake up,
Do you ever wish I was there?

Do you miss the heat of our bodies close to each other?
Our heartbeats beating at the same pace?

Oh, darling.
I do.

Do you?

On an autumn walk at the ides of day
I saw birds of a feather fly together away.
As they flew over flames
In an ides-of-day way
They got caught in the weather
And so forever became
The tall twisted tale
That we hear of so much:
Two birds with one hailstone,
Death from maelstrom above.

"You are beautiful.
You are gentle.
You are brilliant.
You are strong.
You have the most caring heart I've ever seen.
I've known you for well over a year.
We've had our ups and downs.
We always come out on top.
We've both been hurt.
We're better because of each other.
Nothing makes me happier than
Seeing a smile on your face.
Nothing hurts me more than
Seeing you cry.
Nobody is perfect
But you are flawless.
I want to fight for you
Because I believe in you.
I admire you,
I'm proud of you,
And I want you to know
I love you."

Okay guys! A bit sooner than I expected, my book is out!
Here’s the summary:
“A hero or a villain
To them it’s black or white
You’re a spectrum of a person
And none of them are right”

Alex’s Spilled Ink is a compilation of Alex’s poems, divided into three parts: heaven, earth and hell.
Heaven. Dip your hands in the warm, crytal water and reach for the words at the bottom of the lake. Inspiration. Hope. Love. Which will you take?
Earth. Keep your feet on the ground but look up towards the sky. What do you see? The moon, the stars, life passing by?
Hell. Fire burns but so does passion. You fight your battles and sometimes you lose. Hurt. Pain. Grief. Keep on fighting, there’s no excuse.

Alex's Spilled Ink is available only on every amazon (free on kindle unlimited!)

I hope you guys like my little compilation of poetry!

At first I would have nothing
to do with him.
He waited outside my
small flat everyday
Soaked to the skin
in the November rains.

I asked him to go away
But he flashed his
beautiful Irish smile.
And said no
not until you go out with me.
I will wait here forever.

I thought a few more days
He will leave.
But that night I heard
a commotion outside.
He had a group
of Irish musicians
And was
serenading me with
I'll take you home again Kathleen
And
When Irish eyes are smiling.

I don't know when
I fell in love with him.
It might of been then.

All I know it was long ago
And they were
the happiest days of my life.

He sang to me everyday
And called me
his American Colleen.
He always
made me feel so beautiful.
I have lost my smiling
  Irish singer now.
When the sickness came
He just smiled
and say it was a bit of a cold
But I knew ...I knew….
Now on cold November nights.
When the Seattle rain is endless.
I look at the
bloom of the old lamppost
Outside my flat window.
Where he waited
and sang for me?

And in my head
I can hear his sweet Irish brogue
Singing so sweetly his soft celtic voice.

*I’ll take you home again Kathleen
To where you heart will feel no pain

I keep wondering over here
Whatever happened to Van Gogh's ear
The one he cropped in a fit of love
And was that before or after a few beers

Did he send it out in the post
With a return address
Did she at one time say Van lend me your ear
Did he exclaim I can do that

Was it red and gooey inside
Like a Valentines day surprise
When she opened it up and saw it was an ear
Could she belive her eyes

I myself am not a romantic
But I'm pretty sure this is not how it's done
At least not on this side of the planet
No matter how madly in love

Now that the ear of Van Gogh looks like escargot
Feel free to chew on that fact
Which brings me back to haunt my original thought
I wonder where the ears now at