Frozen apple on the mantle
Rolled in a icy sheet of silver white
Crimson red, lightened to a tint of pink
A decorative piece on the mantle, rests
Crunch

if
a star fell
to the earth
each time
i thought of You,

the sky
would be
void of light.

A poet never really stops writing,
only sometimes, we lose the strength to write it all down.

But when we write,
we spill our hearts upon the pages.
Every ink filled line,
giving full access to our minds,
for whoever dares to read them.

I apologize for the tears and blood stains,
sometimes my pen reveals too much.
As I close my eyes,
and my hand glides across the page,
my soul speaks to me in the best possible way.