She loves flowers so much
that even the dead ones
she waters tears with.

How could you close
a book with torn pages
you were afraid to read

like making someone home
just to walk out
of that door
she kept chained
for so long-

that same door
she more than willingly
opened to shelter you.

Let the rain fill your soul
So you don’t cry

Over the hills
we watched the sunset
and I couldn't help
but admire all pastels
mixed through air,
so I captured that very scene.

Now that I look upon
the memory,

I wish I was also able
to take a photo
of that someone
who made me see it

the first
and last time.

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

every night I strive to bury your love in the mud
my hands and heart full of blood
next morning it reblooms with greater vigor
bypassing my rigor
enlightening me about your rebirth with all your purity
and rarity

Uprooting all mem'ries
so as we both
could move ahead.

But even rocks didn't warn us
of how waters from the riverbank
might overflow.