Poetry has the power to talk to the soul, heal the heart and feed the mind.
Running from the pain of the world wishing for peace when what haunts us most is our self
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Love’s faucet drips as it’s sources dry, blocked by modern logs of insecurity and reason, hearts congested out of fear to connect.
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To remember the ecstasy of a passion combined with beauty, is it better to have never had it, or to have and then lost it completely.
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We pray for the gift of loving acceptance, another soul that understands all the pieces of us and welcomes every shard with open arms.
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My loneliness went away the more alone I became, disconnecting from everything else and connecting with myself. But some days…
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Stuck in a loop of hallucinations that I helped to create, each door I use to try to escape is an entry right back in.
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“Being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you.”
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Spinning my web and being trapped by your Venus, wrapped in the minora of your flora.
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In the blind chase of something else I allowed life to strip you from my fingers, and now I’m just mad at myself I guess. This is my hell…
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