“You pack your whole life away as many times as I have, and it’s no more than routine. But in you I’ve found a home, more so than anywhere I’ve been.”

You’re a beautiful enigma and warmed in charming wit.

Rise and shine, rise and shine. Fractious hope in life divine. Rise and flicker, rise and fade. Til’ death’s clasp I can’t evade.

You demanded silence and I became sonorous.

Somedays, I just need to switch it all off, and turn to the trees.

Lets conduct a study. Let’s pull up a jury. Are you a beautiful person? or inclined to wanton fury.

You don’t deserve her, but the least you can do is damned well love her.

I’ve brought myself back to life more times than I can remember. And when I say I brought myself back, I mean, I have clawed, clambered and coaxed myself from the precipice of self destruction.

I am ruled by emotion. She is a fickle leader of a volatile kingdom, where conniving skies cast intemperate clouds over my constitution.

I looked again at my new ring and in that moment all I knew, was that the greatest of adventures would be revealed in with you.

Champagne on our lips and desire on our minds and you can leave those painful memories behind and you can bring your hand to my heart as we kiss. There’s nothing else but us on nights like this.

How are you yet to learn? I don’t want grand gestures. I don’t want the world on a plate, the best life has to offer, material things or flashy gimmicks. I just want you with me.

Burnt mirror, smeared glass. Do you like what you see? If my body is a temple, then my poetry is the darkest vestry. My mouth is a chalice, and these words are sacramental.

Still, I wrote. Even when the police where coming. Even when my whole body hurt, and the slightest sound would make me quake.

Go on then, color me broken whilst I feign my surprise. Let me summon some sorrow for this wreckage inside.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and watch me spark like a match tossed to tinder.

With all these past fears still written on my skin, it bruises me to let you in. Trauma’s that this body holds, still guard these tactile lips untold.

Make the sky your home let your soul roam.

And the darkness felt suddenly like home again. Like a familiar place in the shadows where we used to meet.

The grace of being home is that i no longer have to waste energy on looking okay.

I take a piece of you with me everywhere I go, so my soul never feels alone, and my heart always feels at home.

Happiness is home made and so you’re willing to be happy.

I am not home for somebody else’s trauma.

If hearts are our homes, why do we let others break windows and throw stones?

Always be kind. After all most hearts are home to some kind of pain.