“It’s funny how love fades, and they become more than a poem about yesterday.”

I’m wrong but I’m real.

Break me. Until there’s nothing left and I’ll be free.

She’s no rose. But in her I see the beauty of thorns.

There’s this thing that hurts inside me all the time. Because I know what’s coming.

Lets die. Alone. Like we always do.

Failures often become art. And art can never fail.

Summer looks the same. But last summer she loved me.

Poems are a nice way of saying fuck you.

Always falling but not for anything.

We search for meaning. And destroy it.

She was simple. Like a poem, and always dressed in sunshine.

She was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.

A lot of ugly people hide behind beautiful eyes. A lot of things are only lies.

I never drink in the morning. Mornings are for drugs.

She could be anything. But she’s just a girl with a broken heart.

Late nights. Poetry. Cigarettes. and a wounded heart, trying to forget you.

Just before darkness comes and light fades, those rare moments where magic is made.

As the last cold drops of rain splattered across my face; I watched the dark, ominous clouds fade away; undressing an amalgam of exquisite colors. My soul blushed. The rainbow was warm, beautiful, and poetic. Like a love letter from god.

Ripples in the water slowly fade away they make way for the larger waves that stay.

He is living on a diminishing hope that good things await him in the future. A hope that promises a sense of contentment even though the scars from the past might never fade away.

Life is a lonely journey. We expect and even believe that someone will always be there for us, but that illusion fades away with age and time.

The sky is on fire I am, too cigarette burns on my faded tattoo.

She is fading she is falling she is flying.

We’re the mirror of the cosmos, where stars collapse, born, and fade in unison.