Poetry

It feels like an epilogue, not an ending. It feels like a few scant words meant to tell the rest of our lives in three pages. It’s not the end. Our lives go on. But they are empty and meaningless and utterly insignificant, because we aren’t beside each other, and our story will never truly end until we are.

We’re the same breed. You just display more of your wild.

I think I lost my mind in your eyes.

oh be sure to drag out the dying smear it across as much floor as possible leave a stain larger than life in every corner of the place i once called home

INNOCENT LOVE

You are the sun In reverse, all energy flows into you and is abolished;

No, it’s a weapon, No, it’s a dream you had,

And all the winds blew kisses and caressed me. / And all the forests toppled down within me. / And all the rivers ran into my soul.