“I like to think of myself as the sun, but it gets really lonely all the way out here especially when everything I try to touch burns.”

I think I’ll always remember your birthday and the way you took your coffee because they’ll forever be pieces of you I cannot burn.

We all show our true colors eventually – mine is dark and firesome red. I bet I burned you. I don’t expect to see you soon.

Faded secrets and old voices have built towns inside my heart. Thats were we still meet.

The sun touched your skin with innocent delicacy as if you were a work of out that was made to be admired deeply.

The sky was crying so I wiped away her tears, just like all the times she did the same me.

Each time I fall back in love with myself, I leave my pen and paper behind. It isn’t personal, or maybe it is. I just a always thought that poetry was for the hurting.

I woke up this morning and for once, I had no desire to drink my morning coffee. Is that how it felt for you to wake up and never return?

In a dream like haze, the moment you left still spins on repeat like a broken record.

I hope you think of me during every thunderstorm.

You don’t deserve my poetry. I hate that I give you that satisfaction still.

Your name still tastes like poison in my mouth.

Soft and sweet and wrapped around your fingertips.

I have so much love to give even with these daggers still stuck in my heart.

I am still weighed down by unspeakable heaviness- It follows like shadow currents.

I thought time would heal my broken heart, but its been forever since I fell in love and I’m scared that you took pieces of me that can’t be replaced.

Be here with me tonight, and lets sing the saddest moon song there ever was.

The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which to burn.

True art comes from flying with the madness so close you burn your eyelashes.

Fire and rain; we either drown or we burn.

An endless fire burns within me whispers in my ear and encourages me to grow past what I can see.

She burns like hot water then tastes like sweet tea.

You are all burning desires and questions with no answers.

Tired of being tired burnt out from putting our fires.

The smoke left after the aftermath doesn’t seem to leave the atmosphere, and now it has started to burn my lungs.