“In the end not every bleeding thing dies; at least, not like a paper plays in fire.”

To me there was only ever you!

I knew you would leave someday; And from there a poet will be born from the ashes.

Love is a job doer and a man slayer. Both equally efficient, until the taste of it is most felt on the cold side of the ribs.

There’s not much I know about forgetting. By which I mean I can hear her name from a distance; and it still breathes cold in my chest.

Respect pain. Every heartfelt word is first born from sadness.

I’m a drunk poet; and I guess maybe I sipped too much of what I couldn’t buy of her.

I held my breath underwater and felt surrender in my lungs; maybe this too counts as love.

And when the cold comes, I swear I can feel her in my bones.

Today I can see the cracks on the wall they’re visible; but I can tell they are finding their way to soil, And so am I.

Maybe water is not entirely lost when soaked into sand. Maybe it finds a better resting place to call home; and I hope she did too.

All through the depression, I was the soft toy in the hands of a baby with sharp teeth.

After healing I’ll run back to her – of course this poem demands a brutal ending!

It is my dying wish to travel around the world; to feel this hurt in a slightly different way!

Sometimes even in pain we smile to the world until we think we’re dying.

The broken worlds we hide inside; that’s how we start to die!

Most days missing her is my only choice between death and dying.

The spilling of blood is payment for the joy that is to come.

She is the fertile earth that blooms rubies with her blood and honor.

Fashion is in my blood. I feel more sexy and beautiful with it.

She is a voice that can never be silenced, even if her echoes are transformed from blood and ink to rare gems.

The great questions of the day will not be settled by means of speeches and majority decisions but by iron and blood.

I don’t believe in conspiracy theories. I’m just a cold-blooded investigator.

Family is something your heart accepts, not something your blood relates.

Eyes bloodshot, words insane, anxious thoughts, feelings ashamed. After all, it was the heart to be blamed.