She was astonishing, yet crazy.
She would love you till death but hurt you like hell,
If you understood her sense you’d be intrigued by her words.
-And if you pursued her knowledge you’d fall in love.
She only needed respect, and nourishing.
She was able to heal and be mended by the simplicity of happiness and the little things that made her shine .
She enjoyed lavender baths, which included an inspiring novel.
She adored love stories and hopes to write hers someday.
She lived for flowers and knowledge.
She controlled her sadness in order to strive for her glory,
Always keeps you curious about her story.
Cause she’s intertwined between living and chaos,
She's becoming a Queen that’s wise.

the problem with
being a poet in love,
is that you savour
& trust each word your lover has
without  question.

we are simply in love
with bare literature,
spoken from the lips of someone we hold
in higher regard
than ourselves sometimes.

when you love a poet
each word you utter,
should be a piece of artwork

each sentence,
a highly thought out structure of awe and beauty to leave us seeping
in the warmth of your voice
caressing such fine words

so when deciding that you love someone,
who writes or reads
fill their souls with beauty, memories & truth especially,
for a poet's heart breaks at ease.