His face
The sight brings a smile to yours
His eyes
You can stare into them forever
His lips
You wish you can kiss them
His hands
You wish you can intertwine them with yours
His mind
It intrigues you
His soul
You can love it for eternity
His heart
It doesn't belong to you

I sip this bitter coffee,
Swirling the creamy signatures across each taste bud,
Sitting with an aftertaste I wonder,
What would it taste like on your tongue?

I'll always dream of early morning coffee in bed,
But sadly,
You're not a coffee drinker.

Artists are often
broken people
using the fragments of themselves
to create something new
and although
being healed
feels so complete
sometimes i want to be broken again
sometimes i want open wounds
so i can use the blood
to paint sunsets
so i can use the torn off pieces of skin as a canvas
so i can carve
masterpieces with the jagged bones left behind
but I can't bring myself to break my own heart in the name of Art

Don't read your emails
It only encourages them to breed

As this world degrades,
And we've had enough of the old ways.

I can only wonder what becomes,
After this new birth,
Decays.

I know this world's rules,
And those before,

And I may know of what comes next,

But I will not know what rules,
As they call the next of next,

The fool.

Hey you
My heart is not clay
And still isn't, whatever you say
You can leave or stay
My heart won't care, not even on the onehundredandone day