“Tear me open and I will bleed in your name. My heart aches from your absence, but in the aching and breaking is where my art is born.”

what is my poetry if not all of my sorrows blooming?

Do you really think you could push away the love that’s meant for you? Do you really think you could keep the love that’s not meant for you?

You hurt and I bleed. What a curse to feel so deeply.

People could stab me with knives and i would still get them aid, For i see a glimpse of me in them. But sadly, people aren’t mirrors.

Look at me, comforting you with the words I wish someone spoke to me.

You greet people and are fooled by their smiles. I greet people and I’m haunted by the pain in their eyes.

Rain love on the people that mean the world to you.

It breaks my heart to see people with such great potential to love, give up on love.

There is no love deeper than a broken soul madly in love.

The purest of hearts go through the deepest of pain.

Kiss his wounds and tell him its okay to cry, humans have emotions and they bleed sometimes.

And if they ask you about my love, tell them of all the times you broke my heart and how i still loved you the same.

I honor pain, for it is because of pain my touch has become tender, my words kinder and my heart humbler.

Fault was neither yours nor mine, its just that it wasn’t the right time.

My heart will always be more yours than it will ever be mine.

I’m just as broken as i seem not to be.

If they don’t appreciate your presence, they may never recognize your absence.

Moral courage is the most valuable and usually the most absent characteristic in men.

I have decorated your absence with every flower you hate. I end up hating em all.

The absence of alternatives clears the mind marvelously.

It’s not enough to be quiet. Quietness is the absence of noise. We need peace, the presence of justice and to be – and so people here can coexist and live together.

Don’t go where I can’t follow!

Power and violence are opposites; where the one rules absolutely, the other is absent. Violence appears where power is in jeopardy, but left to its own course it ends in power’s disappearance.

The curious sterility of utopias comes from the absence within them of any scope for initiative, any room for plurality.