If I was the kind of girl who kept her thoughts to herself,
If I could bite my tongue and bat my eyes without thinking so far ahead,
If I knew how to dip my toes in the water without drowning in affection,
If I were made to be subtle and delicate,
maybe it would be easier to find someone to lay beside on Sunday morning.
But why would I want a boy who only loves the watered-down version of me?
I'd rather spend my life in solitude
than beside someone who only wants me on the shallow end.

In the beauty of these eyes I have a story to tell, We are born blind with no clue of what are eyes can do, the miracle light could bring ,life becomes a strange journey till our eyes learn to see, open wide the world is so infinite in these tiny eyes,sometimes our eyes tear our heart till we wish not to open them anymore, the things we see , the torture ,the experience , the torment that hunt and slay us bleeding till we wish, blessed are those in the realm of blindness. In the beauty of these eyes i have a story to tell, I have seen better, in the beauty of their blindness my eyes have seen much more exquisite creature a nature have made, deep down in those glowing eyes , I've seen a movie trail of treasured series, terrifying , sad, hopeless, joyful as they are, I've seen strength and bravery , as weak as I have been ,I've meet the mother of intelligence, a story teller, as many stories these eyes can tell there is no better story than the beautiful story these eyes have seen, in the beauty of these eyes I have story to tell.

In the clear, calm stillness
of a chilly winter night,
where the stars twinkle
like icy diamonds in a
dark sapphire blue sky,
I feel the crisp, cold breeze
ruffling my hair and brushing
my cheeks,
hear the soft crunches of
freshly fallen snow beneath my shoes,
I look up to see twirling snowflakes
falling softly down upon the earth,
each one's intricate design
shimmering in the pale moonlight,
I catch them and peer at their
delicately crafted beauty,
but then suddenly they vanish,
leaving me alone, and wishing
that I too could vanish
along with them
and leave my presence to be mourned.

Wan flesh stretched thinly
Against brittle bones,
The flower of youth much
Wilted by the bitter moans
Of winter winds and
Snows, and such;
She traipses through so dimly.

The surface so ghost-like—
Sickly, pale, anemic—
Though she makes the Madness
Seem so vivid, so scenic
Against drab backroads,
Gray towns, and the sadness
That longs, aches, to strike.

And I wonder what are
Those cracks in her skin,
Violet line-art patterned on
The wan flesh stretched thin;
They creep up to her eyes and
Within moments are gone
By a blink, a single star.

Her fingers are shaking
When she tries to speak,
Like spiders spinning nervously
A web that must be solid, not weak,
To carry the weight of several—
Thus, they weave it fervidly
In a manner quite breathtaking.

Our bodies moved side by side,
the old love song played in the background.

Your hand was on my delicate waist,
a kiss on my forehead is all it takes,
to make our hearts burn intensely,
the night where the stars shine brightly,
are the best nights of my life.

We would hold each other until the music stops,
we would wish the music never stops.