My inspiration comes from little things. I look at conversations, the way people grasp, reflections of their clothing and personality. You can write about anything and create metaphors from it.
When lacking, I usually write for 15 seconds without thinking and seeing if it makes sense and then making sense of it.
I was nineteen. You had your lips on my neck and whispers in my ear. You drove me crazy. But I mistook crazy for absolute happiness.
i fell in love
with the idea of us
twisting in words
breaking backs
in tune of twenty-two
and we age in
fine time and blurred lines
squeezing lemons
for men out of might
and we skip on fine lines
in white noise
to find ourselves in tune
with scribbles on blank pages
journals from our childhood
and i write to quake
tremble between words
in our truth
and i said i loved
but i lust ideas
two souls on a blank page
reminiscing over dinner
with romantic qualities
within each other
yet words scribe our moments
emotions hold our motions
hands grip like ideas grasp
our lips and create thunder
i feel i love on different pages
than the books they read
we fine tune moments for
our own pleasing
i fall in love with the idea
of two at a dinner table
while the tables spinning
and chairs turn
from forward to reverse
our moments twine under
what motions we share
and i find at twenty seven
we quake for hope
because hope is what we hold
and our moments are either
short or long
and sometimes moments
are not enough at all
yet it’s what we take
them for
drafts on your skin
words of your neck
i’m spinning in heaven
caressing in hell
we’re dancing as if
we’re the only ones
here
I told you I loved you, but I said it a little too late. You move in time and sometimes our timing is against one another.
you don’t love
you lose
with devils on shoulders
creeps in night
i outrage in thought
of us intertwined
like fire and rights
rifles in my mind
masochists in disguise
for poetry i write
the devils lips
your thighs
against mine
i fall to breathe
beneath you in summertime
before flowers of night
in time i find us
reminscing on soft cotton
sheets of your might
and i try to remember
fine times
lemons and limes
kissing within the fog
before oceans kissed us
and our feet
next to your house
on venice way
in dawn of saturday
Time never touched you. It touched me and then I seemed to regret everything. Your hair in my face, eyes in my mind, a darkness I found in you. But you don’t regret. You hold within. You feel in memory because love lost is still a love once had. You remember passion, conversations over dinner, moments interwoven before each other. We die to live, not die to cry over memories which don’t last our expected timeframe.
to be a broken virtue
in south with your could
bones from legs
which walked across borders
in feign of my eyes
to die in tears
cry in essence for a missed oasis
like my hands in your lap
twisting tongues in hell
i make you find the darkness
you broke in me
to make me who i am
in this moment
we pause to reminisce on challenge
lossless sound in our emotion
i stand in the open
fields of our might
to be interwoven in you and time
frolicking in the past
of grass and unspoken words
before cards were dealt
hands were held
on streets at night
searching for men in terror
relationship in error
i found you in eyes
and i lost you
in dark desire
