“I was looking for you in all the places our love used to be. When all along I should have been looking for me.”

Standing in your power scares a lot of people. You become something formidable, intimating, and aspirational all at once.

Poetry? That’s easy. I just cut the vein, and let it bleed.

Do I look as good as I remember, Looking back at you from over my shoulder, smug as the devil?

The day I made peace with my pain was the day I was born again.

“Ashes”, we once thought, but the embers in our eyes might have bought us time.

How do you sleep soundly, knowing you traded roses for weeds?

I am a phoenix living in a culture of vultures.

You’re preserved inside of me; cadaversque. I both acquiesce and atrophy because of it.

As if flesh and skin and hands are any match for bullets. As if bones won’t crack in hails of powder and lead. As if rivers of blood are not the direct result of trigger fingers that bend but do not break on “bad days”.

Love me until oblivion paints your portraits on my eyelids, sinking by eons into distance that never separates us.

I don’t know how to put my love down, or to keep holding too much of it.

Your darkness does not scare me, nor will I run from you; like a star, I’m falling for the phases of your moon.

We usually seek the divine in the sky, But religion is best found on the ground. Nature is our true creator.

When I was a child, I used to fear monsters under the bed. I have since learned that most monsters are found within. And they are always worth fighting.

I pressed the dress to my nose, and found what was left of your ghost. It was then that I remembered how to cry.

To the oppressed with no seat on the table; dreaming of change and better days, I will pull up a chair, and light fires in your name.

The beautiful yet chaotic irony of it all is that; because of you, I lost myself, and yet, because of you, I found myself.

For those who may be hurting over lost love: Don’t cry because it is over, smile because it happened.

Things are sweeter when they’re lost. I know–because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot, and when I got it it turned to dust in my hand.

After losing everything, I went on a quest to find out how money really works, how I could get control of it, and how I could have confidence in handling it.

This is the test of your manhood: How much is there left in you after you have lost everything outside of yourself?

There can be no failure to a man who has not lost his courage, his character, his self respect, or his self-confidence. He is still a King.

Finding inner peace is a lost art for with every breath and sigh new stimuli comes and leaves us in a pool of racing thoughts and worries.

Lost in a conversation is something I can never feel with you. For I’ve never felt more found than when speaking to you.