“Sometimes life breaks us and buries us alive, but that is how we find our purpose and rise bloom in love.”

Although you stood before me in all your tangible glory, your love evaporated like an illusion melting in my hands.

I’m the queen of broken hearts with a reign that’s sure to last.

She is dandelion wishes and watermelon kisses. He is tumultuous fire and venomous desire.

Love is my religion and let it use me to be the light on the darkest of nights.

Tainted with lies, toxic fire dancing in your eyes. Kisses like poison arrows aiming for the heart killing me softly. Toxic love is an art.

I do not know how to love gently. Devour me completely leaving no insecurities behind. Let me taste every drop of your devotion. Lets run like the wolves and never let go.

You’re the secret whisper of the mountain. The fresh water stream that babbles down the majestic moonlit reverie. You’re the silent hush of screaming stars that ache my heart with the taste of magic.

Your smile is watching a flower bloom in love. Shy at first, then your brightness unfolds and you magically decorate the world with your flashy hues.

This heart of mine wears battle scars, only a beast could understand. A hunter must be patient in this war zone of land.

I walk around like a faded ghost, a shell of a person waiting to be filled with your love which brings me to life like a cup of morning coffee.

Mold me into poetry. Make me flow beautifully and deep. Write me into rhythmic verses with silent words that make me weep. Paint me with emotions like a bleeding sunset on a shore.

If only love spilled from lips and truth bled from hearts then hate would drown in a flood of understanding.

This melancholy heart longs for a fresh start, where darkness will lift sands of time, kindly sift without a sound for i am found.

My wings of hope unfurl soaring through the broken battlefields of life. On a journey to plant myself and bloom in iridescent rays of reverie.

Some say your body is a temple. But I’m feeling trapped within this flesh. My mind is a haunted fortress and I’m a prisoner in duress.

I am addicted to your madness drunk on your toxic love. Infect me with your poison, lets make storms rage above.

To be alive is to be broken; to be broken is to stand in need of grace.

And perhaps the greatest paradox of all is how we stand here, fully wounded yet never more alive.

The things that made me feel dead, made me feel alive again.

And I am still alive-what though, my damnation is eternal. A man who deliberately mutilates himself is truly damned, is he not? I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am.

As long as you are alive, you will either live to accomplish your own goals and dreams or be used as a resource to accomplish someone else’s.

You made my non-existent perfect fall apart and unfold gently in the arms of your pure acceptance. Imperfections that became alive, then anything that’s ever been known as beautiful.

Hatred’s the fuel that keeps me alive.

People have told me about organized crime in the fashion industry, but I can’t talk about that. I’m looking to stay alive.