“We weren’t written in the stars; all that glitters wasn’t ours.”

When you focus on directing your energy away from harm and toward healing, you feed the soul and starve the ego.

Light finds you just as I once did: an accident that is no accident.

Let yourself go a little wild, a little rough around through the edges; the human spirit wasn’t meant for carefully-curated perfection.

I erected cities with adoration on my tongue and you burnt mine down in the wake of your love.

You could not keep me fed by throwing me bones and empty promises. I am ashamed to admit how much starving I did before I finally left.

Can hope bloom in the shade? Can time give back what it takes away? I once saw the answers to life in your eyes; now I can remember the words to goodbye.

In the absence of you I look to the moon and pray that the stars light my way, too.

If we are what we love, Then I am whatever you are made of.

I fall headlong into everything that lights me on fire. I know not of restraint. I was born to burn.

Anxiety is living with an apple on your head and you imagine that everyone you know stands watching with a bow to shoot an arrow at it.

The stars are where we came from. They orchestrated our return to the place we can always come home: our ancient, timeless love.

You are what it feels like to watch the final silvers of sun fall and die into the silver ocean; tangerine sky giving way to moon-glow and starlight.

Last night, I sent you home with a kiss and a promise. I hope you still believe in roses.

Our story bleeds from my eyes until I cannot tell the stars from streetlights.

Standing in your power scares a lot of people. You become something formidable, intimating, and aspirational all at once.

Poetry? That’s easy. I just cut the vein, and let it bleed.

Maybe all these stars carry the souls of those we’ve lost. And our countless wishes carry all the love we never got to give them. Maybe.

I dream about kissing you under the moon-lit night, under the beauty of thousand tiny stars. 

How is it they live in such harmony, the billions of stars, when most men can barely go a minute without declaring war in their minds?

Stars fell in our eyes the night sky our canvas, we painted the moon red.

My birth was a blessing. Sent to live and die on Earth; it’s a blessing. We each have a star; all you have to do is find it. Once you do, everyone sees it, you won’t be blinded.

Don’t let the ugly in others kill the beauty in you. Let it inspire you to conjure a worthwhile view. Observe their darkness-like space in between the stars. Acknowledged, yet dazzled with the bright beauty of ours. Their darkness is worthy of unconditional love. Just give their ugly, mercy.

A sky is full of stars. Still, I am gazing at her eyes.

Moon and stars are what my dark sky has felt but with the story love of his existence.