I use to be envious
of those who say
they don’t fall in love,
of those who can control
their emotions.
But then,
what a colorless life.
I fall as hard as a tree,
every time.
A new face, a new love, a new shade
of sensation that I chase
like butterflies in a meadow.
And when it’s over,
my life feels like a storm of disappointment
only to see the sun peak over the clouds
with hope.
I used to be envious
of those who never dealt with the storms.
But then, they never got to see the sun either.

It fills me up with fury
A cold and silent rage
That spills out only from my eyes
And now onto this page

The anger is not because of her
Nor is it because of you
It's simply because you have a past
That makes the hate seep through

I should look at the present
And the future we have ahead
Forget the ghosts we both have
Dwell on us instead

Her passion is heat;
       With flames that scorch fire,
       Burning flesh,
       While enticing desire.
       She will blow your mind,
        and light your fire,
        In the same wind.