Laissez-faire and free,
Nothing bothers me in
Bohemian living.

Fruit fresh plucked,
On the grass with the bees
Relaxing and eating.

Read a play, finish a novel
See what's up with sister
See what's up with father

Laissez-faire and free,
Why are you so worried
That I'm not worrying?

I had forgotten how it feels to be touched by you
You left my heart broken and mind askew
The longingness to see you
For eternity and eternally, or just seconds, few
I, henceforth remained unbothered and sad,
Even in a gala milieu!
You came back by a whisker and feelings, see through
And asked me to gather something new and old , something borrowed and  blue
I felt some jitters and saw love inked hues
I felt so lost when it should've been good in lieu
Then one day you woke up and away you flew
You told me it's over, out of love, you grew
I then remembered how it feels to be hurt by the cruel,
I then learnt, love leaves you unscathed and glad, if true
And seems precious than any material, money or jewel
You will find it in the world, first find it in YOU.

and if i die tomorrow don’t worry
i’m already used to hell

All you can do is watch
As she pries the light from your eyes
Your breath now clambering in and out of your chest
She lifts your feet so far above your head that you shake
You can't breath
You can't ******* breath
No time to think
You have to get out
There is nothing left that you can feel
As she sits a weight on your chest you fall asleep
Seconds later you wake up
Panicking you squirm around like a maggot underneath her
As she stands so far above you that you can't even see her
You can't see her
She is the omnipotent sky above
SO ******* FAR ABOVE
It's not the fact you can't see her
But that she doesn't care to look at the mess she's made
She is god
And she is unbothered
She is untouchable

im not scared of death, at all. i dont broadcast that statement as much i used to because it always seems to put people off. like not being terrified of the inevitable makes me some kind of rare specimen.

im not scared of death, at all. i guess that makes people scared of me because i dont feel the same as them. i must be some kind of freak after all.

You are a certain type of something
You left empty picture frames and broken glass when you disappeared
On Sunday mornings your drowned yourself in liquor and honey, never giving a **** what anyone had to say.
Intimacy to you was a soft spoken poem that you wrote half drunk in the middle of the day.
Dancing around the living room in the middle of the night, singing the words to the song at the top of your lungs
Jesus Christ you're so ******* beautiful
Being with you was like driving right into oncoming traffic.