beware when you fall in love
with an artist
be it a painter, a singer, or poet

for the artist will
paint you
with strokes and hues
in shapes of every kind

sing about you
with heartbreak lyrics
and feelings which rhyme

write about you
with the simplest words
and a secret message she wants to say

beware of the artist,
and her love
one wrong move
and you're an artwork in her display

(inspired by cute crazy's "unfair")*

I
  loved
    you
      for
        who
          you­
            are...

and
  you
    threw
      me
        away
  ­        for
            who
                
                  *I­  wasn't

Isn't it ironic how one can feel so lonely in a crowd of people?

Do what you have to.
An unfinished poem
still means something
to me.




I want to be left alone.

I have no more words.

There is a person
I've always known
Yet will never get to meet

Everyone
That I know
Has met her

All...
But me

I see her sometimes
Through others' eyes

I may catch a glimpse
Temporarily

We share the same dreams,
Fears and doubts

I know her
Very personally

Yet only through a looking glass
Am I allowed a peek
At the face I know so well

Yet will never get to see

My view is only
Of my reflection

So unfortunately

I'll never see
What others do
When they look at me

Saying goodbye
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.

As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
And perfect
The plot always was.  

You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.

Finally understanding
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.

Although the last sentence  
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.

Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.

You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book  
Was your favorite story
All along.

I painted a butterfly’s wings
because its colors
clashed with my garden

It died,
so did my garden

I sit in the shade
On summer days
And wish I could reach the sunlight.

My days are grey,
And I dream of days
Where I wake up in that same light.

On those days,
I will jump out of bed
And be happy to look in the mirror.

I cannot lie,
I am looking forward
To those days where I will feel better.