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

And again I’m in your arms. Searching your skin for some small comfort. Your touch, this time, is love’s purest tender. Your hold, for now, is a fortress I feel safe in. Maybe, once more, I can call your body home.

She can shake away the recent frost of misery and pain. As life takes in a vivid sense of meaning once again.

And just like that, fostered beneath the stars. curated by moonlight, our love became incarnate.

I am so sorry that my feelings have the audacity to not be contained within one short sentence.

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.

They fear; Fragile feminine body with a rigid sense of integrity.

When my body dies one day or the next, I drift away from it, merge with the air, and with a divine timing I travel back into another human form and continue to discover the life I am.

Write your lustful words with the invisible ink of your tongue upon every part of my body, until my mouth begins to moan every single letter in poetry.

Be proud of a body that bares the burden of being buried only to bloom.

I’d rather suffer in silence than be subjected to deafening stares. I feel like I’m in an abusive relationship with my body, no one can see the bruises.

Bodily exercise, when compulsory, does no harm to the body; but knowledge which is acquired under compulsion obtains no hold on the mind.

Some say your body is a temple. But I’m feeling trapped within this flesh. My mind is a haunted fortress and I’m a prisoner in duress.

When people see an actor speak, they think they know him or her, whereas I’m just a face or a body to them.