“The velvet veins running through my deep-colored wings sing blues, remembering the non-existent maple memories, lighting up my heart’s frosty rays.”

The nerves and the turns of time try to dial a smile-every another mile, of whiles and lives, but all they are prompted to is “non-reachable”, because of the route of the mind.

Truth never ages-old, It is as deep as the universe.

I cried so much that my tears, made up a sea, I survived sailing in that teary sea, to reach the shore, which, at first, didn’t have a door for me!

Unexpressed feelings reside in music that does not have lyrics, but feelings in rhythm!

Like a busy fairy smiling in its own melancholy on unending Friday nights, the loving wings of my realistic fantasies, spread themselves as wide as the sea.

The sensation of the sunshine sparkles my eyelids from time to time.

Coping with love’s aftertaste, my fractal feelings sprint in haste, my mellow neurons transmit tears, like a cascade of caramel latte.

The state of nothingness ends, but the longing for it never does!

Eddying towards my zero points four mystery misted pens naked nib, the stars splash starlight ridden waves, on my ever-circling emotions.

Add the frozen dreams, to the passionate flavor, in you and there you are, having the best of you!

A narrative told in the infinite galaxy of colors that melt into white and, brushstrokes bourne upon land who are titled ‘human beings’.

Nothing was trying to hurt me, except my own thoughts, which felt like needles, trying to stitch tears within my eyes.

Time stops for the heart to tick-tock!

Petals and thorns grew hand in hand, realizing themselves, the oneness in them didn’t seem afar!

Santa sobs recalling December’s decor, navigating joys volcano, overcoming dawns of insomnia, waking the snowflakes to find, yearlong sleep, which delightfulness sneaks!

My love is like a trigonometry problem simplified by my heart’s mint green genies, the broken being in me sings a million epiphanies, my life is but colors spilled in polaroids of caring butterflies.

My flowers rot beneath my bed. I was too selfish to part with them. I hope their deaths don’t bring hexes. Did I say flowers? I meant my exes.

He says your poems whisper too loudly of ugly truths. He forgets he authors the endings.

Sometimes it’s the ones that seem to love themselves the most, that actually love themselves the least.

She was afraid of heights but she was much more afraid of never flying.

Sometimes it’s as if we’re an overflowed tank. As if we are holding more than what can really fit inside us.

We lost sanity in vanity chaos breeds insanity.

We know very little, and yet it is astonishing that we know so much, and still more astonishing that so little knowledge can give us so much power.

I’ve never met a strong person with an easy past.