black
grey
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white

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

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Beautiful Herself Myself Rose See

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

There’s this thing that hurts inside me all the time. Because I know what’s coming.
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Hurt Myself Time
It’s funny how love fades, and they become more than a poem about yesterday.
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Fade Love Past Poem
I never drink in the morning. Mornings are for drugs.
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Drink Drugs Morning Myself
Sometimes I wonder if these rain soaked shoes will get me home.
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Home Myself Rain Shoes Time Wonder
I gave her address to my soul. Ans she fucked the mailman.
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Address Herself Mail Man Soul
I’m wrong but I’m real.
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Myself Reality Wrong
She wanted love. So I fed her, inch by inch.
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Fed Herself Love Myself Sex
She could be anything. But she’s just a girl with a broken heart.
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Broken Heart Herself
She was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.
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Artist Myself Poetry Sex
She was simple. Like a poem, and always dressed in sunshine.
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Herself Poem Simplicity Sunshine
I liked her simplicity. She wanted coffee and orgasms.
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Coffee Herself Simplicity
Failures often become art. And art can never fail.
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Art Failure Myself Wisdom
With her, the world becomes art.
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Art Herself World
There’s a strange beauty in her. She shines like hell.
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Beautiful Hell Herself Shine Strange
Late nights. Poetry. Cigarettes. and a wounded heart, trying to forget you.
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Forget Heart Night Poetry Try Wound Yourself
I wake to find her there, with glowing eyes and tangled hair. She is my sunrise.
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Eyes Glow Hairs Myself Surprise Wake Up

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