if the stars are falling,

we collect it like it’s all ours,

Putting it in a glass bottle like fireflies,

to spark light to where it isn’t

to be vanished when it’s morning

their ignite has gone,

by opening the lid

you’ve seen the welts,

on the inlet of your wrist,

to leave mark to where it shoudn’t

to not be vanished when you’re mourning

love poem
"where love is a wave that splashes on the sand"

when a heart
loves
the stars surrender
to the heavens,
the moon catches her breath
and the avenues
of silence become
voice. i follow the
path to my love,
i die for him,
i live for him,
like a spartan
in the heat of battle,
like a flower in the
mist.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.