“Music is a weed, we all fallen souls are high on.”

Your name is a song my thoughts dance on until they reach the tip of my quill.

Fear people who dare to walk with their chest open, despite of having a heart bruise by love.

He looks up in the sky. I count stars in his eyes.

Your lips taste a lot like petrichor, on my rainy days.

Exist so loud that even if you die tonight, your deeds illuminate like stars.

Life is a burden and death is a luxury, at last we are all dreaming to buy.

And the biggest irony is you spend a lifetime finding someone to love and then die learning how to unlove them.

I’m the ocean swaying with the harmony of your moon.

Gift him flowers and watch him blushing like even fall.

You’re breathed all over the walls of my lungs and I don’t know how to breathe you out.

Your name landed on my lips like december snow and slept there forever like a baby.

You can always wear armor of your smile as a remedy for this world full of damaged souls.

Ever since I met you, love wore the shade of your eyes.

When she’s drenched in agony and soaked in pain, her smile holds the art this world is dying to learn.

Unlike our flesh and bones, our souls always share a common religion. The religion of art.

Her aura was warm and I was a naive sunflower, leaning towards her.