Darling,
I have been thinking.
Lately, I think I am starting
To forget how to pour my feeling
Into words

I used to write about my sorrow
About the broken vow
That I used to swallow
I used to feel hollow
I was so low
I was afraid to face tomorrow

Until you came up here,
Trying to take all the fear
And I thank you for this, my dear

I do realise that
I never write you poems anymore
Maybe because I am not one
to speak with poetry
or maybe I am just too busy
to think what words to write

I’m busy looking at the brightest eyes I have ever seen—your eyes
I’m busy listening to my favourite sound—your voice
I’m busy burying my face in your chest,
Just to smell my favourite scent—your scent.
I’m busy drowning in our sweet, passionate kiss

I couldn’t write you poems,
I can only feel,
I feel my heart beating,
And it is beating for you.

A girl stared at her own figure in the mirror. Her pale face showed no smile, no expression. Her weary eyes looked empty. She felt so heavy yet so **** empty. A man stood behind her, running his fingers through her long hair whilst staring blankly at the girl. She then turned her head towards the man, looking deeply at his glazed eyes. He placed his palm on the girl’s cheek, gently caressing it with his thumb whilst his eyes locked to hers. They were drowning in her own thoughts, their own feelings.

After a long moment of silence, words finally came out from the man’s mouth.
“You ready?” he asked. The girl nodded.

She turned the music up as he turned the lights down low. They slowly reached the bed, and once again, looked at each other’s eyes. They felt their hearts beat faster than ever, but they remained calm. They were nervous, but they knew that this was what they wanted for so long. They knew they were both ready for this.

As their long, silvery, sharp knives stabbed on each other’s chest, they dragged their souls into oblivion, slowly released themselves from the mortal world. Before the girl completely disappeared, she caught a glimpse of the man’s eyes. The man then leaned down toward her face, looking at her eyes deeply. She smiled as she whispered, “welcome to my circo de muerte.“

*They’re now gone.

I've written entire novels about you, a soliloquy of my heart.
My logic did not approve, so I have fashioned a new art.
White ink on white paper- for you cannot hate what you cannot see.
It seems my heart has fooled my brain with words it cannot read.

Hand me a tragedy to write about.
Give me a reason to rip out a piece of my soul and thread it in between these lines.
Find me more than indifference among intolerable children.
Bring hell to earth and allow me to bask in misery and pain.
Throw me into pits full of snakes and drown me in a sea of burning acid.
Bring me to the brink of death and back over and over until I have felt enough pain to start writing again.

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.

The moon shines a cool blue tonight
as we entwine our fingers, laying on the baseball field
beneath diamond heavens. We lie
in silence, in the moments when the Universe reveals
itself, and contemplate the distances between one celestial body to
another, the space between
us growing as I turn south
to find Orion while you seek Cassiopeia in the north.

Shooting stars cross the sky, and we wish separately on dead
stars and dead dreams, lights already grown red and extinguished
as we whisper in the dark, passing
between phases.

And in the end we're all left searching.