“I will always be the one who made you into poetry.”

Pain stole my heart and made it home. And I can’t do anything but welcome it.

The darkness feels like home. And the truth is, I’m tired.  I can’t pretend like there’s light anymore.

All this world and I could not find a piece in yours.

We are strangers again. And what a beautiful thing that is.

I don’t know much about love. But he really makes my heart smile.

Your name suffocates me.

I am now empty. And you still look at me as if I have more left to give.

It is a loud war to love you in silence.

What’s enough really? I just wonder if I’ll ever stop breaking.

I can’t get back the time I’ve wasted trying to make you stay. What matters is that I left.

I want to fall in love. But it’s not easy. Finding a soul like yours never is.

You can take my heart. But you should know, It’s not whole.

I wish it were easy. You know to be brave. And look at myself without quickly wanting to turn away.

I know loving you has consequences. In silence from a distance and alone.

I built bridges that never once led me back to you. I just didn’t realize you were the one breaking them.

I don’t know who I am anymore. And maybe that’s okay. What if, this time I can be someone who doesn’t believe in love anymore.

I do not know if all cops are poets, but I know that all cops carry guns with triggers.

In every century, there are a handful of writers who help the human race to evolve. Andrea is one of them.

Genius in general is poetic. Where genius has been active it has been poetically active. The truly moral person is a poet.

Do not feel safe. The poet remembers. You can kill one, but another is born. The words are written down, the deed, the date.

The true Poet is all-knowing; he is an actual world in miniature.

I have defined poetry as a ‘passionate pursuit of the Real.

Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.

Who could imagine a poet wearing anything other than black?