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

M.K. Standby

And in the end-you didn’t deserve my thoughts or my ink.
M.K. STANDBY

Break Up Deserve Heart Thinking
The bond of friendship as tight as any lover – where shoulders carry shared burden, a devotion unmatched by any other.
M.K. STANDBY

Burden Devotion Friendship Lover
It started the way it always does. A broken heart, and a blank page.
M.K. STANDBY

Heart Broken Page Start
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
In the end it’s all the same – the hearty fire or the damp earth. I pray I’m not alone.
M.K. STANDBY

Alone Earth Myself Prayer
And in the end when the money is gone – will you still stay it was worth it.
M.K. STANDBY

End Money Willing Worth
A dishonor greater than any affair, is that of a friend who never was.
M.K. STANDBY

Affair Friendship Greatness
Maybe this time I choose ignorance, because giving began to feel like losing – repairing a house from rubble, and making sandcastles with the ash.
M.K. STANDBY

Beginning Choice Home Ignorance Time
It spills from my fingers faster than ink can flow – feelings too strong to contain, emotions that demand to be felt.
M.K. STANDBY

Demand Fast Feeling Fingers Flow
I read that good things take time – but one look at him, and I knew I could never love someone more.
M.K. STANDBY

Goodness Love Myself Read Time
Your kisses fell on me like sand through an hourglass – a thousand tiny moments, for an eternity of stillness.
M.K. STANDBY

Fall Heart Kiss Moment
What use is sleep, when reality is more beautiful than my dreams could ever muster?
M.K. STANDBY

Beautiful Dreams Love Reality Sleep
14 days, but I can’t change my sheets. Your scents still marks my pillow – and its all that I have left.
M.K. STANDBY

Break Up Change I Miss You
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
Leaves dance on twisted arms, swaying on the breeze as though choreographed by unseen hands. Even the faithless could find themselves converts, by the smell of dampened earth and its blossoming rose.
M.K. STANDBY

Blossom Dance Earth Faith Hands Leave Rose Twist
I’m scared of mediocrity, of scribing my soul on fading pages, each destined to the fate that met those before it – gently laid to rest in a growing pile of unwanted words.
M.K. STANDBY

Fade Growth Mediocre Myself Page Scare

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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