I am a baby, I am a child, I am the innocent wonder in my eyes I am a glimpse, I am a sign, of someone I can be, someone I might I am not...

Maybe life is all about twirling under one of those midnight skies, cutting a swathe through the breeze and gently closing your eyes.

This winter, there will be no voices, no glimpses, no arms.only the fabric of poetry, to keep me warm.

everything that is scatteredcomes together in wordseverything that is lostcomes back in poetry.

my motheris pure radiance. she is the suni can touchand kissand holdwithout getting burnt.

i want to be in love with youthe same wayi am in love with the moonwith the lightshiningout of its soul.

when I finally begin to driftinto sleepyour memory is the…firstand the moonlightthe last, to kiss my face.

this life has been a landscape of painand still,flowersbloom in it.

i’m glad to be alive in a world wherehis gently awakening eyesnourish the morning sun.

There is somethingmystically sadand beautifulabouthowi will neversee youagainbut meet youagain and againin poetry.

my love is a winter’s mistgently dissolvingthrough the windowat the nape of your neck.

for we all have our own twilights and mistsand abyssesto return to.

Love, bemysticalas the flickering blue flameof nightas the fully-awokenmoonbeneath cobwebsof passing cloudsamidst chantinghigh-tidesfuzzy,as my blanketbig enough to illuminate a hundredthousand billion galaxiesand just small enough to fitinto my embrace.

Like a speeding trainI am passing by…I don’t knowwhere I’m headingwith whom or whyall I know is thatI will never, everpass from here againall I know is I’m skidding forwardon this track of life.

Sometimes the rainfallsjust for you and meto be the violinplaying in the backgroundof our loneliness’s song.

the saddest thing is to bea minute to someone,when you’ve made them your eternity.

you make autumn misttaste like champagne and turn winter raininto the elixir of life itself.

The world is thinningand the earth…it’s still spinningmy world is thinningand it’s all because of one person I’m missing.

For youi have saved poemsunder my skin.

Fall in lovewith the energyof the morningstrace your fingers along the lullof the afternoonstake the spirit of the eveningsin your armskiss it deeply and thenmake loveto the tranquilityof the nights.

we always knewthat good times camewith termination contractseven if we weren’t quite readyto sign it.

You are that one breath. that puts all the remaining breaths. back into my body.

she’s gotoceanstucked awayin her hairpoems swimunder her skin.

holding the eveningtremblingly close to mei weepinto the sun lettingthe burdenof hopelift off my chesti realizethis is what it meansto be free.

leave me some musicthat’s chocolate for the heart.

I keep my kindness in my eyes Gently folded around my iris Like a velvety, brown blanket That warms my vision I keep my shyness in my hair Tucked away into a ponytail Looking for...

you wereand always will bethat first ever touchto have fertilizedthe groundbeneath my life’s treesthat first ever roseto have fragrancedthe rest of my memories.

some words bring warmthjust bybeing next to each other.

i will forever be collidingwith a billion unnamedundiscovered stars, each of uson our own orbital paths.

When you left you left behind a fieldof silent flowers under a sky full of unstirred clouds…you left a million butterfliesmid-silky flutters You left like midnight rain against my dreaming ears Oh and how you...

the sapphire depthof my own love…startlesand warmsand wounds my soul.

sometimes i don’t know, which momentwhich cool gust of wind will come,and enchant metousling my hairand my heart, stirring…that familiar ache of poetry, which drop will kissthe old wrench in my soulreminding me, all over...

Someday I will walk under the soul-blossom tree with my hand eternally woven in yours.

our feet are grape-squashed in memoriesour skins are still flushedfrom the touch of summer’s lips.

I am a tale, I am a book, written in different languages and styles I can’t be read, can’t be understood,neither by me nor the greatest of minds I am too big, I am too...

there have been morningsso quiet and tenderlike a poem, on Thursday’s lipsthat I wonderedif I’d been kissed at all…

may my touchalways…be tenderas i would strokemother’s cheekswhen she cried.

Not words. nor laughter. but rather someonewho will fall in lovewith your silence.

you areas fleetingly beautifulas a mother’s tearsand a father’s pranksa brother’s bachelorhoodand a best friend’s bad mooda bride’s glittering jittersand a handsome stranger’s smile.

in a worldfull oftemporary thingsyou area perpetual feeling.

I was coming together…limb by limb, after being brokenfor an infinity.

..i spill intothe kind of silenceonly Khalil Gibran would understand.

most of the timesit’s the hardest to saywhat I love moreyouor your memory.

you areso deliciousto my poetic side.

poetrymelts my bones.enters my blood.and changesits composition.

I wish to stay drenchedforeverin those rain-blue eyesin those…soul-reaching crystalsnot moving a musclenor breathingjustsavoringthis turquoise acheagainst my heart.

love wounds me with soft pillows with tender lips and fingers

i am eithera stormor a drought.in-betweenshave neverbeen my thing.

love canembellish its beginningsing its blossomingand engrave its eternitiesbut can never explain its loss.

Tea is just an excuse.i am drinking this sunset, this evening.and you.