If we were two sunflowers, I would have faced you instead of the sun.

I told the stars about you.

You are the kind of mystery I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life trying to figure out.

So many broken children living in grown bodies mimicking adult lives.

The heart is bloodied from longing,
yet the lips smiling with hope.

Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee
and I'll forgive Thy great big one on me.

You are at once both the quiet
and the confusion of my heart.

-What’s your dream?
-To hug you under the rain. And you?
-For it to rain.

We are dreaming of a new day when the new day is here already.
And still we sleep.

No home anymore. Nowhere to return.
My house is a ruin, a cemetery.

And I ache with such profound emptiness
that even the void is envious of me.

After a while, the residents of the sea do not hear the sound of the waves. How bitter it is, the story of routine.

Kindness.
What a simple way to tell another struggling soul that there is love to be found in this world.

You’ve made yourself a home within me.
I’m more yours, now, than I’ve ever been mine.

Someone loves everything you hate about you.

Her smile is like the promise of tomorrow.

She wears strength and darkness equally well,
the girl has always been half goddess, half hell.

I twist like a sunflower at the sound of your voice.

I hate what's on my mind, the lost lover in me that still peels two oranges instead of one, just in case.

Not every poem leaves you alive.
Some are written to end you.

To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides.