“Her memory still lingers, like a cockroach in my heart.”

She was only a collection of flaws and she was beautiful.

There’s a strange beauty in her. She shines like hell.

He opened her cages, and freed the things inside.

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.

Your heart of gold will always be worth more than money.

The burning desire in your heart is your compass.

Stay stupid. Follow your unconventional crazy heart.

Where the heart feels torn is where the blood rushes most and that’s where all the roads meet.

She left this world with so many unanswered questions. But returned with an open heart.

My head screamed. I want to make them burn the way they did to me. My heart cried that’s not who you are.

I can feel your heartbeat when my mouth is wrapped around your lips.

When a mother asks for a second child her body forgets the pain of the first. When I give you a second chance my heart is being forgetful.