-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.

Man despises suffering,
yet without it, he is nothing.

Museum of failure or gallery of trying?

Hug me as if I were to die tomorrow, and hug me tomorrow as if I were back from the dead.

Flowers grow back, even after
they are stepped on.
So will you.

For us, the past is our only reality.

I met my younger self today,
I told him the dream is dead.
He asked which one, I laughed -
He left.

She’s the love letter that takes a lifetime to write.