“All the dreams you planted in my eyes, will someday haunt you alive.”

Its easier to say love doesn’t come to you rather than explaining why you push it away.

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.

Evil exists in the shadows of our world and I’m realizing that without the darkness there would be no light. We need both to stay alive.

Ups and downs in life are very important to keep us going, because a straight line even in an ECG means we are not alive.

I don’t want to live my life in the back seat, I want my hair in the wind full blazing towards the horizon.

maybe all we need is some good music, good company, and bad dancing to remind us what it is to be alive

As much as I gained from self-love, Being in love with who you are is more than enough to make you feel that you are alive.

In the veins of poets flows ink, with which they create words for eternity. When they die a part of their souls will still stay alive in their poetry.

Remind yourself every day of why you’re alive.

The moon is alive because of the darkness how could we – ever be afraid of something that gives the stars a home?