I went behind the house,
to the old garden.
No one came here anymore.
It was old
overgrown
forgotten.
Most of my family called
waste of space
waste of time to fix
its ugly
Don't bother.
I looked at it differently.
I saw the beauty.
It was hidden,
the weeds were a mess,
but they were intertwined beautifully.
Then as i stood, the light hit it.
The place lit up.
After a while
i left.
Leaving it,
to sit alone,
but it sat beautifully,
even in its ugly.

She was pretty.
Scratch that.
She was beautiful.
Scratch that too.

She was more beautiful,
Than a sunrise on a winter morning.
Or a rainfall on an autumn day
Where the leaves dance in the wind
And fill the sky with life.
More beautiful than a flower
That breaks through the cracks
Of a concrete garden
And brings color to the air.
She was more beautiful,
Than any poem that's ever been written.

She was beautiful.
Scratch that.
She still is.

A poet in love
Is a match soaked
In gasoline.

-r0

Do you remember when we were little?
Do you remember the time
We made snow angels
In May
And mum got upset
Because our clothes were stained by grass
But we didn’t care
We just lay in the grass full of daisies
And looked up
At the endless sea of stars
And it was just a little bit too cold
And a little bit too damp
But we really didn’t care
Because those stars
Those stars
They were the most beautiful things
We had ever seen