If love had another name, this could be it.
I realized this last night;
when I thought of a distant memory.
We were both drunk;
pouring our hearts out
talking about how our loved ones
always tend to abandon us and all.
We hoped love could cure it all
but we both know it wasn't enough.
It was never enough
to lift the heavy weight
our hearts and shoulders held.
After thinking back
to the things that had happened,
I came to a conclusion
that it isn't always love itself; sometimes it's the lovers.

he is the one
who brings the sun to shine

he is the ink
that dances across the pages
giving birth to beautiful poetries

he makes great symphonies
with his lyre he'll give you a show

he can bestow you great health
but try not to anger him
for you may suffer the plague he brings

it has been a great day
but it's time for him to go

he'll be back tomorrow
with more symphonies
and poetry for show

wielding his silver bow and arrow
while riding his sun chariot across the sky
you will easily recognize him
he is the god Apollo.

The downside
of falling in love
with people
who make you feel
sparks
and fireworks
in your heart
comes
when they leave you
with nothing but
ashes and smoke.

A beautiful maiden
guided by the moonlight
hunting in the dark woods
with nothing but
her arrows and pride.

I have this habit of starting wars with myself and sometimes in the end I don't know whether I've won or lost.

She is a beautiful house full of secret rooms and intimidating paintings on the walls that would make you uncomfortable.

Only a few people get to feel like home.

He met her
and all the wars
inside him grow silent.

He loved her
and that's when he realized
she's the only thing
worth the pain of
****** hands, broken bones and bruised skin.