I still smell your absence on my skin. It smells of insomnia and rusted key locks…
I watched you storm towards the restaurant door. It was a chilly December morning and the birds sitting on the high wires in the neighborhood refused to fly any longer.
There was warmth in his large piercing brown eyes. The kind of warmth that tucks a child into bed. The same kind of warmth that dries your wet hair on a rainy December afternoon.
I want to be the thought that takes your mind off the road and your hand off the steering wheel.
-Do you want me to leave?-Yes-Do you want me to stay?-Yes-Do you love me?-Yes-Do you want me?-No-Then leave me-I can’t-Then stay with me-I can’t, I can’t, I can’t*Equation of a fucked up relationship
There are people that damage you for life. The day they walked into your life will forever be a turning point you will use to label and count your years with… Your own BC and AD.
You have the face of a man who gently caresses field flowers and dandelions. And a smile that is like a dagger, cutting the sun in halves.
You don’t need an ocean to feel like you’re drowning. You feel it, between your chest and your throat, the weight of it stretching you outside your self, like a dead fish on the shore.
No one made sense of the love they shared. They didn’t get the hang of it either. But together, the clocks of winter stopped.. And autumn’s fallen leaves turned, swiftly, scarlet.
The sea is in your eyes. Your face is an eternal summer. Whoever told you otherwise is a fool!
Count your salted wounds then name themlike the stars of a bright constellationCount your scars and bruises then give themthe wings of forgiveness to fly
When the wind blows in your face,when you feel you are losing your head,when the going gets tough,and when all else fails,look inside you,you are not alone.
He says “You are my property” and I feel relieved. After all, no one wishes to shatter what he owns.
Like a tenacious ivy, your presence clings onto the drab wall of my existence. Cling harder onto me love, like a blood sucking bed-bug who is never satiated.
You are the Arabian stallion that neighs on the crossroad of my heart ache covering me with the dust of my own ardor.
There is a hole in the heart called “absence”. You live in it my dear.
It was the moment I heard your laughter. The moment I heard us laughing, two cascades in the middle of a desert, careless and uninhibited.
And I will remember how we made the sun blush every morning.
Now that your eyes are open, make the sun jealous with your burning passion to start the day. Make the sun jealous or stay in bed.