Friday foggy night and I was wondering, just wondering
As I noticed how silent the city is that I once used to live in
How silent I was not anymore

This is not the place to be, I thought
As it only wanted me to lay my head on its shoulder
How loud I had become
The city I grew up in

Like the waves
clashing against one another
Struggling to keep up,
but aware of the power

Rising up,
streaming down
rushing and hurdling
coming ashore

As the sun radiates
illuminating the water,
I can see crystal clear
there is hope.

I've always reaked of instability
From the time I was little
I didn't have a home

So when I got older I made homes of people who were never made to stay .

Maybe I was so scared that he'd stop loving me
- I pushed him away instead

I swear this boy does not deserve my poems
He deserves something bigger
His might deserves to be known
He deserves sections in library's

And to be acknowledged by children
They need to be taught about the wars he created by the power in his step
They need to be taught about the chemistry of connection
Of how his atoms captured mine
They need to believe in the magic , the merge of cells that become one
They need to study the science behind love
and then ...
They need to realise that it's not comprehensible it's just magical.

because instead of her lips, her words will send you to dream land

the infliction of her voice will cause your heart to ramble

her tone will send chills down the middle of your magenta scars

~
Fall for a poet because //
Her word choice will make you feel as if you are art

As if you have been sewn
As if your skin tone was created by the experiment of combining multiple browns and beiges

That , that scar on your forehead is simply a watermark scribbled by the great architect

~
Fall for a poet because//
when she does touch you , you will be swallowed by her embrace and washed away to a forever .

A seed is planted at the first mark
You always remember the start
You have to quench the thirst
Poison ivy is growing in my veins
And I dig them up using thorns
Red like roses, soft as petals
Skin meets the sharp metal

Listening to the music made by the trees
Leaves rustling and the small of fresh water as the clouds cry for each other
I begin to wonder why I waste my time thinking about my past