She chooses to live
a life of style ,
A life where her story
Will be told using stanza
Rhyme and conclude in verse.

A story which will be
 Written using metaphor and
Simile to illustrate her 
Personification as an elegant
beautiful creature

 She chooses to be poetic,
Ironically she was still prosaic
Every day of her life
Trying to fake it
 till she makes it

She wanted to take the Road that is less travel
The road that diverges
Into two different paths
She took the prosaic
But walk the poetic

The moments we crossed were long forgotten;
Slid 'tween my fingers like some fine cotton;
Love you had within, yes I did missed so far;
To be Lucky alas to have had you in my car!

If love would have had a face then yours would have been the perfect
If love would have chosen a medium then I would be lonely

(Sea of Roses)

Just standing on top of the world
Looking at life from a different view.
Angelic thoughts natatorial.
Smile radial, open doors
Allowing me to be a watcher,
Sentry.
Encyclopedic arms luscious
A cupola for the desolate eyes
That fray for true love and acceptance.
My ears are split for their voice of
Unanswered dreams.
I swim in their silent cries.
I sleep on a bed of Rose thorns
A young heart with an old soul.

You're the angel of my dreams
The hero of my nightmares
You're always there for me
When life's too much to bare

amidst all this chaos
        life was sitting in a corner
              silently anxious
                      harboring a storm within
                             waiting for love to arrive

The mind plays itself on the edge of a pool, imagining its drowning. The water filled with emotions that embrace the past. The water is ice cold, lacerating the vital organs. The organs represent any hope of love and selflessness. Why do we fall into depth we can't rise above and why do we dig holes that dry us out. Within this pool is a small object circular floating on the surface giving us hope, for some, it's God for others it is a reflection of ourselves the ideal hope that life gets better. If this object somehow sinks we are hopeless and are living in hell. Why live in a state of fear when everything you fear is nothing but the failure of responsibilities. The failure to attain love, the candid dream of a beautiful life. Isn't it a form of torture to be hopeful till your demise.

The tiny drops of water hanging loosely on my hair,

These eyelashes,

It feels heavy to look through a midnight moon

My lungs collapse in a winter's cold

My tears are frozen on the inside

The blood prints of my feet...

trailing my path,

My present fails as it fades

This heart beats on

As I walk on water,

Into a sunset we call home