“Even the stars wish for you but the night is ours and you’re mine.”

There are parts of me that beg him to devour all of me.

The art of harvesting pain – poetry.

Poetry is not a cure for sadness but it makes the pain bearable.

I’m laying bare still untouched by the hands I crave completely taken by words.

You didn’t need to make her cuts this deep.

She dances barefoot through the smoke upon ashes from a broken world  – she is hope.

A loving reminder at least we are lonely together.

Steal back your heart – self-love.

And then I understood you were never my rescue yet always my escape.

He may never slay a dragon but he will grow old with you begging for death to leave you alone.

And they wrapped her in darkness until she became it – Lilith.

Are you aware of the wilderness you awoke when you broke me?

Her poetry  – a sweet symphony of madness.

I just want to lay in your arms dressed in nothing but love and moonlight.

She tried building walls but a heart of fire and air breath and spirit cannot be confined.

They saw her beaten and broken I saw the birth of a warrior.

If I love you it means we share the same fantasies, the same madnesses.

My father taught me to work; he did not teach me to love it.

Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.

Perhaps it is our imperfections that make us so perfect for one another.

I don’t trust people who don’t love themselves and tell me, I love you. There is an African saying which is: Be careful when a naked person offers you a shirt.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.

My wife is the best reason to come home.

I’m a lover not a fighter.