“Don’t write about me I was never meant to be your poem.”

She was a strong and smart woman and could repair even a leaking sink and a broken TV. Doing everything on her own, still she always let him pull down her zipper…

Her stories always ended with three dots, sounding like an unfinished melody; she hoped he would guess the rest.

Baby we are not getting older each day we live our new versions and the new has no age.

Whats there to remember we made the most memories remembering each other.

What is perfect love if not loving each others imperfections perfectly?

She was too much for you…Pouring her love onto you, she thought she would quench your thirst, but you drowned…She didn’t know your heart was just a shot glass and not a continent.

My words fly around you like the annoying flies that only exist to disturb the silence and bite sometimes. When did I become so small

The irony is that we had more intimacy when apart.

What I love the most about us is that we are fully committed to each other without losing ourselves.

We used to play with barbies and when we grew up, we willingly became dolls in the hands of men, i guess we just miss our childhood games.

Lets make memories on the fly instead of just dreaming.

The night is young we can keep talking till morning but lets change to the body language instead.

I became your melancholy your unfinished symphony its better to leave undone rather than knowing I did my best yet wasn’t enough.

Have the brave heart to dream so freely, that the memories of the future weight heavier than the ones from the past.

The way you rip off my clothes makes me feel like I am a gift, your gift that you can wait to unfold.

To all those who ever wished to hurt me, “ I am sorry that you broke when you hit me.”

Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.

At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.

At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.

Poetry is just so emo.” he said. “Oh, the pain. The pain. It always rains. In my soul.

Poetry is what is lost in translation. It is also what is lost in interpretation.

Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

The loss of tastes for poetry and music is a loss of happiness.

I don’t think I’ve ever read poetry, ever. I’m not really book smart.