So we fall into conversations over cups and tables.Because it is what people do sometimes.Because we might get an insight inside the other world.The other's world.

So we take walks and stretches,just a mile isn't enough. Because we desire to.Because it's a new experience .Always ready to explore.

So we touch and let touch,it's the feel of it.Because it's a level of human connection. Because there's a certain feel good about it all.Pleasures of all time.

So we live and let live ,some matra we picked.Because we've seen and done much.Because we are yet to see and do some more.All stuff good and hell-ish.

So we are that kind of flame,fast but steady.Because the world runs at our pace.Because the world is ours.It's all beautiful really.

He liked it black
No sugar or cream
16 ounces of pure caffeine

I've never tasted something so bitter
The way it touched my lips
Made my body shake and quiver

This caffeinated high
Drives me to do such things
Like going on endless adventures
Reaching for the extreme

Building staircases in familiar places
But never reaching for the stars
Leaving only a slip of paper
Handwritten with a smile

Silly little light house
Sitting on the rocks
Laying there for hours
Singing and such

I could waste away here forever
There in your arms
But I rather have those
Black coffee kisses
So bitter, so strong

He liked it black
No sugar or cream
These black coffee kisses
Made me forever weak in the knees

By my life's end and lost poem
the world will be covered with you.

Your name and scent and actions
will be written and then scattered

upon pages and hearts and stones,
upon date-trees, grape-leaves, and palms

for centuries to come.

we take dates out for coffee
as caffeine makes us
give more attention

I don't understand it.
I try and I try, but it makes no sense.

All that I've heard
About love is the pain.
Nobody ever seems
To speak about the gain.

The only ones who care
To tell me the happy parts
Are the ones who have not
Yet experienced broken hearts.

So while others wait
For that one perfect mate.
I think I'd rather read
Than go on a date.

There's a sharp pain in my side, driving me insane,
clicking my back all the time, ouch ouch ouch.
Message from him, a message from her,
they both love me you know, it's pretty awkward.
I have a box on my desk, it's brown and filled up,
nothing good to you maybe, but stuff I treasure a lot.
There's that drawing I did when sleep high,
"Sleep High" is what my friends like to call tired.
Might update another piece of writing today, not sure yet,
I can't believe I've been writing this since 2012.
The cat is so soft, I wanna just snuggle his fur,
I'm trying to think of a song to listen to, but I can't be bothered.

On a bench at the park, in
The last light of day,
I wring and fling my tongue
Like a brush full of paint --
I beat it and the dusty words
Fly from the old red rug.
The splatters and droplets
She uses to paint a smile, gorgeous
And colourful, and she wraps the
Rug in her own, wringing
The dust out of both.