It started as a gnawing
in my stomach- not
butterflies of love
but the anticipation
of flirting with death.

There after, I'd race cars
down empty streets and
sing louder than the speakers
overpowering blue and red
sirens behind me.

Liquor rolled down my throat
like dice on the gambling table
the first time I bet my luck and
held your hand.

Midnight's like those were the
times when the barrels of loaded
guns seemed as tempting
as the sweet kiss of your lips.

poetry lives
not just in the dreamy glow of the moon
across your lover's eyes
on a perfect evening, or the
mesmerising game of light
and shadows dancing on
moving waters, through
wooded greens;
no,
poetry lives in
the little things you
don't see and don't say:
the sharp edges of heartbreak, the
magnanimity of forgiveness, the
soft sighs of love that
*won't go away.

I like the way your name sounds,
Rolling off my tongue,
But mostly I'm in love,
With the way you say **mine

The sky was lit
by the splendor of the moon

So powerful
I fell to the ground

Your love
has made me sure

I am ready to forsake
this worldly life
and surrender
to the magnificence
of your Being

you came into
my life
as an
exclamation point
wandered it
as a
question mark
i thought you’d
leave with
three dots
behind
but you left
with only
one

If you asked me to tell
where the ceiling ends and
the walls begin,
I wouldn’t be able to tell you.
When I think about you
everything blurs into black
like an unkindness of ravens.
And I—
You are
the only thing that ever
crosses my mind as soon as
dusk turns into night,
and I could never tell you why.
I like to think that
just as birds know when to fly
and time knows when to die,
I was meant to love you.