Had I the titans overwhelming strength
Or the dryads, soft, enslaving touch
Imbued with powers of the old
If I were to be, then maybe,
I might come at your place
And how you live, see.

Had I the wit that the wise shared
Or the pen that wrote this world
Enough paper and enough trees
To write of your beauty;
I would do that!
With each breath of mine, with each word.

Had I the wind that pegassues rode
Or the haste, empowering cupids bow.
Enough arrows and enough speed;
I’d protect you!
From everything you’re afraid
So you wouldn’t have to sleep, blindfold.

……………………………………………

But, I am none of these!
Not a long-forgotten god, not a scholar
And even less, a mythical beast.
I am just an ordinary human.
All I can do is write, write, write
And love you; But never, never speak.

The human in me should die.
I’ve said this
One too many times.
The human in me should die.
For there is no place
For two souls
In this frail body of mine.
He should die
And he should do it now.
Or else I’ll **** him!
And in his blood, my hands dye.

The human in me should die.
For he loves,
And I love not.
For he cares,
And I care not.
For he smiles…
And I hate smiles!
The human in me should die.
And in his grave I’ll write:
There is no place for humans,
In this human-shaped life.

If you’re building a net
to catch someone’s attention,
well, try building a bigger one.
One huge enough
to catch this world,
the moon, the planets
the stars…
and not just someone!
Never settle for just someone.

How can a poet rest?
-I reply.

When in love
We write of love,
When in pain
We write of pain,
When someone we hold close,
Dies! We write of death.

When someone leaves
We write of being left,
When in writer’s block
We try to surpass ourselves,
And when we cease to exist
We hope to leave enough poems-
So we won’t need to return
And continue where we’ve left.

Winter is white,
just as your skin is;
And it’s cold,
just like your touch;
And every time it comes
I freeze,
just like I do
when you are in my sight.