My body is still ablaze with the memories of you.

If love does not ruin you at least once,
then you loved like a coward.

I remember one August in particular,
when everything was sweet and slow and you looked at me like I was something the sun left behind on purpose.

To have ruined one’s self over poetry is an honor.

I pray there’s a place in hell where it burns a little softer for those who couldn’t save themselves.

The potential you see in other people isn’t real. It is the projection of what you would do in their position.

You cannot change things by loving them harder.

If you were the sun, I would be Icarus.
For I knew I was bound to fall, yet still I chose to fly towards you.

The day you teach the child the name of the bird, the child will never see that bird again.

And if autumn trees have the courage to let go of their leaves, perhaps, I too, can let go of what used to be.

And how odd it is to be haunted by someone that is still alive.

Lost at sea, waves always find their way to the shore. Perhaps I will too.

If you come back, you’ll still find me listening to your favorite song.

When death finds you,
let it find you alive.

I still love the people I’ve loved, even if I cross the street to avoid them.

Somewhere beyond right and wrong, there is a garden. I will meet you there.

I carry grief as if it’s
all what I’m made up for.

Promise me
When it's your turn to be the hammer, hit hard. Because when you were the nail, no one had mercy on you.

He who sees too much,
end up not fitting in anywhere.

Some stay, most leave.
That’s life.