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She’s like a jar of butterflies, waiting to be opened.

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Butterfly Herself Open Wait

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes, it’s just poetry.
TONY COBLE

Poetry Silence Word
Women are beautiful. But some are made of hell.
TONY COBLE

Beautiful Hell Woman
She wanted love. So I fed her, inch by inch.
TONY COBLE

Fed Herself Love Myself Sex
I never drink in the morning. Mornings are for drugs.
TONY COBLE

Drink Drugs Morning Myself
She wanted romance. I just wanted to fuck the stars out of her eyes.
TONY COBLE

Eyes Myself Romance Sex Stars
Late nights. Poetry. Cigarettes. and a wounded heart, trying to forget you.
TONY COBLE

Forget Heart Night Poetry Try Wound Yourself
She’s like turning on the radio and hearing a brand new song.
TONY COBLE

Brand Herself Music Radio Song
We search for meaning. And destroy it.
TONY COBLE

Destroy Meaning Philosophy Search
Sometimes I wonder if these rain soaked shoes will get me home.
TONY COBLE

Home Myself Rain Shoes Time Wonder
She could be anything. But she’s just a girl with a broken heart.
TONY COBLE

Broken Heart Herself
Failures often become art. And art can never fail.
TONY COBLE

Art Failure Myself Wisdom
It wasn’t forever. But I loved her until I hated her.
TONY COBLE

Forever Hate Love Myself
I wake to find her there, with glowing eyes and tangled hair. She is my sunrise.
TONY COBLE

Eyes Glow Hairs Myself Surprise Wake Up
I messed up a lot of things. I called it poetry.
TONY COBLE

Call Mess Myself Poetry
Romance is a dream. I can get better shit at the liquor store.
TONY COBLE

Alcohol Dreams Myself Romance
I gave her address to my soul. Ans she fucked the mailman.
TONY COBLE

Address Herself Mail Man Soul

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