A Weird Collection Of Things I Like

I saw stars in her eyes. And sometimes I wonder if there were more, maybe one for each part of herself she threw away, shot down, or let die out because she couldn’t take the pain of them. Or maybe they were lovers of the past that took them when they left. And sometimes I wonder if I was one of them, or do I still burn in her eyes? I’ll never know.

For me the only things of interests are those linked to the heart.

I want to be a work of art, at least in my soul, since I can’t be one in my body.

When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.