“My eyes, finally conscious of the truth that is, now see unclouded.”

As I unfolded my hand she took my palm her eyes narrowed on the heart line and I knew by the look in my eyes I would always be heartbroken.

I miss you but not as much as I regret leaving myself to be loved by you.

This is a poem about love its absence is merely an optical illusion.

The shelter is where I am when I am with myself.

I have emptied myself of a heavy burden today lifted it out of my body and placed it down its not the end but it’s a beginning.

My heart is my muse my blood is my ink my pain is my pen my words are my healing.

Why do I push up against the ones who will not have me like a wave pushing its way on the sand when my people are in the ocean and we naturally flow to protect each other.

Authenticity feels like the glue that has put me back together I feel whole and aligned in every word.

Release the person’s place thought-feeling.

I will always meet you with kindness.

I still have hope that one day someone will love all of me – from the hallelujahs right down to the hallows.

You took my heart, hope, love, and trust when you left but you gave me good poetry.

You are whole and complete all on your own everything you need is within you peel away the layers come home.

Why do I paint a happy face every single holiday when they are a stinging reminder of what and who is absent.

Listen to the heart to its beat in time words are no match for what is spoken in the heart’s rhyme.

Friendships exist in the fluctuations between acceptance and rejection.

Storms in his eyes, Fire in his heart, Lust in his touch, Tearing me apart.

I saved a spider from death. Stuck on the smooth white curvature, Almost drowning in the bathtub of regret. Eight eyes looking up at me, a face he will never forget.

Can’t find my soul in my eyes Must’ve been drowned out by night cries.

A sky is full of stars. Still, I am gazing at her eyes.

Your eyes stole all my words away.

Her eyes shone with the radiance of vibrant life reflecting the blossoms of her heart.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say – Do I see, what is me? Or did his eyes lead me astray?

You greet people and are fooled by their smiles. I greet people and I’m haunted by the pain in their eyes.