Love, let me be the
ink of your quill, the very
blood of all your poems.

Writers are brave
for every time they write,
they rip their chests open,
and let the world know
what is inside their hearts.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

i threw my tears to sea,
letting it get drowned
by the waves
created by millions
of liters of tears
of all the people
who just chose
to let go
of the heavy barrels
that weighs them down

i am the waves
and you are the shore.

darling, no matter
how difficult and
painful i had
to experience
just to reach you,
i would endure.

and every single time,
i’ll be bringing you
stories from every corner
of the world
that i have gone to.

We’ll all feel lost but
passion will be the compass
that’ll lead us back home.

Have you tried peering
into my bare soul to
discover what makes
me open my eyes
in the morning (even
my lower and upper
eyelashes seem to
interlock themselves)
for the world keeps
on laying the cards
on the table that shows
me all the reasons
to just give up on life?

You’ll see yourself.
You are my hope—
the magical force
that keeps me
moving forward.