She cries late
                  every night
     Turns off all the
                           lights
         Sits in bed
bawls
             her eyes out
      in the dark
Cutting out pieces
      of her heart
No one can see
                          the scars
           of her sewing
back up her chest
       Soon she will be
             an empty shell
        Hopefully
                    putting her soul to rest
If her heart
                    is no longer there
It can't get broken,
              right?
If no one can see
                          the tears
Then she never cried,
                     right?

She's an alphabet artist
she paints in words,

from a palette of adjectives,
nouns and verbs,

the landscape she finds
in the folds of her mind

she exhibits in volumes of verse.

Silence is not keeping quiet
because you have nothing
to say...

Silence is having a lot
to say but no desire
to speak...

Don't let my absence take you by surprise
I promised I'd wait for you
When you wake up and open your eyes,
And turn to your side
But I'm gone.
Never to return again.

i wish i could love you
gently, but the beating in my
chest is echoing like a choir
through cathedral halls
and i don't know how to think
about you quietly

(maybe, if there is a god, he
meant for our song to be
heard by heaven)

Humble lost to Ego
Ego made him cry
Humble only wants to live
But Ego wants to die

in the rain-
darkness,     the sunset
being sheathed i sit and
think of you

the holy
city which is your face
your little cheeks the streets
of smiles

your eyes half-
thrush
half-angel and your drowsy
lips where float flowers of kiss

and
there is the sweet shy pirouette
your hair
and then

your dancesong
soul.     rarely-beloved
a single star is
uttered,and i

think
       of you