“It is hard holding a spot in your body that doesn’t want you.”

Any day can be Monday when you choose to start right.

Do not insist me to let you go, you come half hearted like a crescent moon, and you go heart-filled like a full moon which glows.

I chose myself today, not over you. I can never do that, and you know that well. I just chose the new me over my past self.

The believe you carry in yourself is what makes you unbelievable for others.

When you let me touch your skin, I can feel your pain. What joy you get in keeping me away?

Entangle me, into your talkative eyes. Let me breathe in, your breath often. For I’m tired of floating, in the shallow waters, when I want to get choked.

Sometimes its suffocating by being surrounded with happiness and not being able to feel it.

Sometimes, I feel sorry for you. I’m not there to hold you, and this clouded sky do not let you talk to the moon.

Your departure is no joke it freaks me out every time you leave for the airport.

If I’m sharing you with myself, I’m daring to share your thirst for warmth, your body and soul, even your mistakes gone wrong.

Darling, everything is likely to fall in place, only if you make up your mind to stay.

My notebook couldn’t carry the burden of all those words which my heart once felt.

We have engaged ourselves so much in the idea of self love, that everyone else appears to be empty shelves.

The sound of those crickets still drowns me in the summer fantasy.

She who has the courage to dive deep into the ocean will find the pearls.

I couldn’t experience an end with you, because you have always been a beginning to something new every day.

The soul is the effect and instrument of a political anatomy; the soul is the prison of the body.

Feeling, the strength of the roots beneath my body I stand here planted in the soil of all that came before me and all that will follow.

Bodies are real entities. Surfaces and lines are but fictitious entities. A surface without depth, a line without thickness, was never seen by any man; no; nor can any conception be seriously formed of its existence.

If only were my skin like art shining against the mould, if only my body were a canvas brave if only.

When will the leaves begin to change in this body of mine?

They called me a lost cause but I’m not the boy I once was I’ve paid full price for each mistake now I know, how much this body can take.

My pent-up passion seeped out like gas from a leaky stove, your touch was the spark I needed to set my body on fire.

I have emptied myself of a heavy burden today lifted it out of my body and placed it down its not the end but it’s a beginning.