Home will always be where comfort is, even if that comfort is pain

Sonnet VIIIJe vis, je meurs : je me brûle et me noie,J’ai chaud extrême en endurant froidure ;La vie m’est et trop molle et trop dure,J’ai grands ennuis entremêlés de joie.Tout en un coup je...

Bridge burned from end to end,and I don’t miss you anymore.You delivered silenceI’ve birthed freedom.

He thought of trying to explain something he had recently noticed about himself: that if anyone insulted him, or one of his friends, he didn’t really mind–or not much, anyway. Whereas if anyone insulted a...

If I lived a million lives, I would’ve felt a million feelings and I still would’ve fallen a million times for you.

There is a girl who still writes you; she doesn’t know how not to.

Silence explains a lot of things.It tells us why people are who they not supposed to be.It’s the fear of being afraid.It’s because of their own safety.Sometimes it becomes an unexplainable feeling.It shows the insecureties,...

LoreleiIt is no night to drown in:A full moon, river lapsingBlack beneath bland mirror-sheen,The blue water-mists droppingScrim after scrim like fishnetsThough fishermen are sleeping,The massive castle turretsDoubling themselves in a glassAll stillness. Yet these shapes...

my poetry is merely a body.you are the soul in my words.

Beyond the YearsI the years the answer lies,Beyond where brood the grieving skies And Night drops tears.Where Faith rod-chastened smiles to rise And doff its fears,And carping Sorrow pines and dies— Beyond the years.IIBeyond the...

The road was so dimly lighted.There we;re no highway signs to guide.But they made up their minds,If all roads were blind,They wouldn’t give up ’til they died….

Nothing is made, nothing disappears. The same changes, at the same places, never stopping.

El sabor del olvido destilado sabe a ti. Y yo lo mezclo con whisky. Sobre una base de cerveza.

Poetry was not meant to be a workhorse; it was not designed to paint pretty moral pictures of life; it was not brought into being to confuse us with cryptograms, or high platitudes, or pompous...

A touch so tenderBliss of sweet words fills of desire Open Hearts of sweet surrender Nightly poison gas the fire. A quite place to romance Touches as we held hands. No loud words spoken, but...

We write about love like we should be bound in padded rooms.

2.07 WALK OF LIFELife but like a cycle that you be riding,You will fall if you ever stop peddling,Life not of good cards you be holding,But those held and how you be playing.[68]- 4

I’ve never seen beauty so devastatingas in the linesthat trace our hopeand fall from the stars.

…some of the best love poems have been written by monks and nuns…

The more I learned the less I felt I knew you and I got lost counting stars, I fell dreaming. Sometimes I’d wander away. Maybe I wasn’t ready or maybe it was just a hard...

That night I didn’t say anything. I just watched you leave and in the end, I just stayed sleeping awake. Somewhere between a sweet dream and a beautiful nightmare, hoping one day you’d return to...

They’re only trees. Only trees. Whose afraid of lonely trees?

all the wordsall the poems know my warm, soft spots.

Wedding HymnFather, within Thy House todayWe wait Thy kindly love to see;Since thou hast said in truth that theyWho dwell in love are one with Thee,Bless those who for Thy blessing wait,Their love accept and...