Poetry is a tree.
Do believe in me.
Has her roots at sky
and wings to fly.
Words her teardrops.
Rhyme her crime.
Feelings her healings.
Thoughts her knots.
Poetry is a tree.
Every morning kissing me.
Let our Love be.
Let her set me free.
She is a tree at sea.
Sailors all we.
Ship the world we live.
In poetry i do believe.
Like a statue of nature,
has a mind so mature,
a heart so delicate,
oh yes, in silence we communicate.
Poetry is a tree.
Give her dreams to be
and you will suddenly see,
mountains having sea.
I am in love with poetry.
We have a lighting chemistry.
Star is her middle name
oh me, a lover of her game.

you have started a fire in me that will never die, but even as I feel it singe my insides, I take it as a reminder of your presence in my life, and I cherish it.
you can set me ablaze with just your eyes; on some days I am a forest fire and others, cinders by your fireplace
people say gravity holds you down, and for me, you are my gravity
sometimes I feel like outer space, vastly unexplored and misunderstood but when you came into my life I became an open book.
you made me feel like I belong.
I was uncharted territory but now I'm on your maps and frankly it has never felt so good to be found.
you are fire and death, gravity and the stars, and despite this, I still love you.

you laughed. laughed heartily while we were at your garage getting drunk on happiness. at some point I picked your gasoline up and I began to douse myself with it.
your hands didn't stop me at first. in fact you were amazed that I was even doing that in the first place. after twenty minutes you had a Zippo in your hand and you set me aflame.
I revelled in your fire. I relished it like no other.
after a while you got bored of me. seeing the same old flame burn was way too monotonous for you
yet you said nothing and just watched while I continued pouring your gasoline on my bodice.
I realised that you had stopped lighting me.
I asked why.
there was no reply, only, "I am not worthy of you." in quiet hushed tones.
I missed your fire.
I grabbed your Zippo and set myself alight, but again you only watched and it did not feel the same.
there was no warmth in self-inflicted burns, and your eyes seemed to wander.
here i am, cinders of that one time, and still I wish you would set me alight again.

-x.o.