if love grins
and sinks its fangs into my heart
perhaps I would let it

if love paints my lips
maroon when it kisses
perhaps I would let it

if love wraps its arms
around me in a suffocating embrace
perhaps I would let it

for if love was to forsake
nothing but scars and wounds
perhaps I would still call it holy

and if love leaves
as quietly as it came
perhaps I would still call it love.

Poetry,
a mirror cracked in verse
each shard reflecting
a softer curse.

Three parts ache,
one part light,
we write not from joy,
but from the fight
to find it.

Beneath the boughs where twilight spills its gold,
The whispering winds through blooming meadows glide.
A river sings where silent secrets fold,
And daisies nod with grace the hills can't hide.

The sky, a canvas brushed in fading flame,
Reflects in pools where dragonflies alight.
The lark ascends and calls the sun by name,
While shadows dance beneath the birch’s light.

In Nature’s hush, the soul is softly stirred—
A truth more pure than ever man has heard.

If peace is at north
and war is at south,
but you are in the east
and I’m in the west,
I would choose to go north.
But if my heart is at sea
and your hand is on fire,
if my papers and letters are ashes
and my poetry discarded in a sack,
I would burn to touch and take your hand.

What does sadness mean?
        Are you sad?
       I think, I am.
      What’s your favorite color?
     Green, like moss on wood after a drizzle.
    Do you miss him?
       Yes.
   That’s sadness.
   Are you sad?

If yesterday had come for you,
               I’d mourn forever.

If today is that day you leave me,
          still I’ll never forget you.

If tomorrow already erased you,
     then maybe I should retrace it.