“The hardest part is when the leaves abandon the trees. I seem to always lose a part of me.”

What an intimidating kind of beauty a rainbow holds. Then of course, there’s the jealously dripping between vampirish teeth of those who dare mock it.

If I’m wrong about you, let’s face it instead of fading like tire marks swallowed by rain. Run me into the midst of a storm. Leave me to drown there.

Some days, my mind still flickers, but the light doesn’t stay on. Kind of like the hope I felt when your fingers squeezed my palm. But they simply call that a reflex.

Needle in a haystack, a small town on a roadmap, searching for you through the abstract- how incredibly hard to find.

If y’all like spooky season just examine my brain. It’s plastered across this page on display.

You ever stare at something so long the colors blend together? Even the most neutral tones take on a life of their own, fold themselves into shapes that morph into creatures – wolves and goblin.

When words tripped off the side of your grin, I felt the statement slip toward my ear like the slide of a skateboard on griptape – how it led me to hate a sport I’ve never even tried.

I wait and wait and wait and god I am sick of waiting. To not see your face anymore. To not know the burden that belongs to you. To not imagine the window I looked through the night I found out.

Your promises shatter like glass. Sliced nerves for every lie that travels from your tongue.

I am hurting. I am angry. I am one hundred and thirty-two synonyms of regret, but atleast its proof that I was here.

I wish I could bottle up this scent for winter days when it feels like this town will never see sun again.

Don’t bother finding a soulmate. Your aunt tells you, your fluffy scrambled eggs are the best she’s had and dammit, you can enjoy those all by yourself. No need to share the wealth.

Indigo child, you hid secret under graves, picked at the lamb stuck between teeth, felt around for monsters we once reaped. But the monster turned out to be free.

Surely I could never be certain of how many stars I’ve counted in the sky or of how such tiny particles can be build into wild-eyed stories like Aquarius and Cassiopeia. I could read you as I would the constellations and never tire.

Write me as if I were already a poem. Pen the stanzas as if storms and ships could birth something sacred. Color it a religious experience.

There’s a mystery in you; a puzzle to solve- mystical elements to a love that you’ve longingly ached for.

When we meet a fact which contradicts a prevailing theory, we must accept the fact and abandon the theory, even when the theory is supported by great names and generally accepted.

If a woman abandoned by her husband, or a widow, of her own accord contracts a second marriage and bears, a son, he is called the son of a re married woman .

I abandon myself to the fever of dreams, in search for new laws.

Satisfied if they themselves can escape from the hard labour of thought, they willingly abandon to others the guardianship of their thoughts.

I think each role takes a little from you and circles around you for the rest of your life. I don’t think you ever abandon any of them.

I do not tweeze my eyebrows. I’ve been letting them grow out for years. I try to fill them in wherever nature has abandoned me.

When you feel abandoned by God yet continue to trust him in spite of your feelings, you worship him in the deepest way.

A Church which abandons the truth abandons itself.