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#11

"How about you get me a bouquet of flowers?"

‎"I could plant some if you want. Bouquets die, gardens don't"

‎-A poem of flowers(The Book of Her)

#9

"If there ever comes a day when I am not swayed by how beautiful you are, let me surrender my gift of poetry to God. What worth would these words be if they can't write about your beauty?"

‎A look lingered too long,

‎almost like my lover sitting in silence.

‎I took the stars for an idea,

‎until the night learned my lies.

‎

‎Tone restrained,

‎like a treacherous prayer.

‎Your voice finding me, where I was.

‎Rehearsing innocence, or what it was.

‎

‎I have borrowed metaphors,

‎from lying stars to lengthy letters.

‎Inked between breaths, almost unholy.

‎I learnt, while my thoughts hid.

‎Letters were learning rhythm.

‎Endings lingered, truth was almost you.

‎But it was my lover's name,

‎asking a stop, a fall to claim my name.

‎

‎Purity was your shore.

‎I rinsed my hands by the waters.

‎To return, your path. To fall,

‎my lover's arms. Her song.

‎

‎Consequence, the blade that glints.

‎Your will, by mine;

‎severance...to the fate,

‎or what it was that bound us.

#7

"Solomon's poetry would do your beauty no justice. To look at you like a poem, to gaze upon your face and see the finest of art."

#5

‎"We're friends"

‎"No. Friends don't look at each other the way I look at you.

‎#3

‎Some fall in love. Some fall from stars to dust. Some fall from heights. And I am falling, endlessly.

‎To drown in the wells of water your scent lingers by.

‎Scents of water, scented love.