black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

Don’t give your heart to a poet – we see stories in a sentence and haunt you with our ink.

M.K. Standby

You broke me into pieces, but I took those shards and built a mosaic. I’m stronger for the fall, and more beautiful than I could have ever been with you.
M.K. STANDBY

Break Mosaic Pieces Yourself
Don’t waste your words on me, your face speaks in volumes that your breath could never reach.
M.K. STANDBY

Breathe Face Reach Waste Word
You are a mirage – never mine to hold. A glimering promise so tempting to chase, eternally out of reach.
M.K. STANDBY

Forever Mirage Reach Temptation
My throat burns with the words left unspoken, air hangs still and silence hides the words you long to hear – stay.
M.K. STANDBY

Burn Hesitate Silence Stay Talk Throat
Her body may lay on your sheets, but my name sits softly on your lips.
M.K. STANDBY

Body Lips Name Softness
What use is sleep, when reality is more beautiful than my dreams could ever muster?
M.K. STANDBY

Beautiful Dreams Love Reality Sleep
I sit by the sea wall, willing the waves to stay. Pulling away with gentle abandon – they avenge me for doing the same.
M.K. STANDBY

Abandonment Myself Sea Stay Wall Wave
In the pale light of a setting sun – I’ll hold your hand and promise to love you more, on the days that you forget to love yourself.
M.K. STANDBY

Forget Love Hands Hold Promise Sun Yourself
A collection of thoughts bundled together and bound in twine – more toxic than any chemical, my very own poison.
M.K. STANDBY

Collection Poison Thought Togetherness
Words hold little scope, for a love that stretches far beyond the limitations of language.
M.K. STANDBY

Beyond Hold Language Limitation Scope
Building a fire from a ash, what did I expect?
M.K. STANDBY

Build Expectation Fire Myself
Don’t give your heart to a poet – we see stories in a sentence and haunt you with our ink.
M.K. STANDBY

Haunt Heart Ink Ourselves Poet Story
I see the way that he is with you – holding your heart with softness he never spared for mine.
M.K. STANDBY

Jealousy Myself Relationship See Way
The smell of oak reminds me of summers spent sleeping under canvas, crackling fires and roasted coffee, the soft sound of guitar and voices in unison.
M.K. STANDBY

Fire Guitar Reminder Softness Sound Summer Unison Voice
Spirits dance on a velvet night, the sky it’s deepest black. In restless sleep and twisted dreams, they find themselves alive.
M.K. STANDBY

Alive Black Dance Dreams Night Spirit
We didn’t know it was simpler, did we? Those days of sunburnt youth and carefree adventure. Knowing that indestructible optimism would waver with experience – would I have gripped it a little tighter? Held on a little longer?
M.K. STANDBY

Adventure Experience Hold Known Simplicity

Don’t give your heart to a poet – we see stories in a sentence and haunt you with our ink.

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Don’t give your heart to a poet – we see stories in a sentence and haunt you with our ink.

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Popular Authors

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