Nothing but you can lay hold of my mind, and that can lay hold of nothing but you.

“People are starving for love, not knowing their heart is a magical kitchen. Open your heart. Open your magical kitchen and refuse to walk around the world begging for love. In your heart is all the love you need. Your heart can create any amount of love, not just for yourself, but for the whole world.”
— Don Miguel Ruiz

Have a mind that is open to everything, and attached to nothing.

I spend half the morning thinking about your phone call, and when we were up all night talking. How I felt the effect of your words on my heart. I lie in bed and I think of you. I know you come with baggage, but so do I. I know you’re scared because of how others treated you. But as the sun rises and sets, I’m falling in love with all the things you do.

It’s easy to take off your clothes and have sex. People do it all the time. But opening up your soul to someone, letting them into your spirit, thoughts, fears, future, hopes, dreams… that is being naked.

I even wish I could wipe the story out of my mind entirely. But of course, you never can. Why is it that you can’t forget what you really want to forget?

It took me only single stare to dive deep within you, and I knew then, you were completely different than those empty bodies everywhere around me, you never looked like anyone else, I taste you when I glance at you, and I blindly read you, how uniquely your soul is with both opened and closed eyes

As a beautiful girl, here's what you need to know..
Don't you ever let anyone reach out to your body before touching your mind.
Real lovers always want to see how does your mind look like when it's naked before seeing your body
you'll not get it now. But, soon you'll get it and you'll know why and trust me, you'll remember this.

but is it even poetry if it doesn’t haunt you a little?

What kind of writer am I to you? With all this love and no right words for it?

I pray in words. I pray in poems. I pray through breathing, through dreams and sleeplessness, through tears and pain.
I pray through snow that falls outside the window. I pray you will love me one day again.

Body Count
Three bodies, one soul,
The ghost that haunts me,
A presence irresistibly evil,
His hold over my subconscious certain,
Three bodies, one soul,
I keep burning the bridges,
No, when I want yes,
Yes, when I need no,
It is a passion for insane,
Delusional accounts of intimacy,
Three bodies, one soul,
If we make sense it hurts,
If we hold hands, it burns,
Sets us on blinding flames,
If I see him, he moves on,
A step into his eternity,
An eternal party of souls with bodies expired too fast,
Proof, all the good ones, died young,
Three bodies, one soul,
A little girl dreaming of a love so wicked,
A poet with a kink for the pain and the drunken,
A poet with a kink for madness,
Now it hurts, I keep denouncing the sadness,
Naming the demons I'd like to keep,
Make a home for his shadowless self in my subconscious,
If I name him, he will stay,
Three bodies, one soul,
One dead, two to go,
A ghost, an architect and a philosopher,
To haunt me, to build me and to take me apart,
Three bodies, one soul,
Two dead, one to go,
I'm haunted, built up, waiting for the breakdown,
A ghost, a ghost and a philosopher,
Three bodies, one soul,
Two dead, one to go. Blu,

I wanted to write stories full of breezes, of filtered rays where dust motes danced. And then I loved the writers who made you look through every line, to gaze downward and feel the vertigo of the depths, the blackness of inferno.