Sarei forse più solasenza la mia solitudine.Sono abituata al mio destino.

A book is a place where my reality, escapism, hope, despair, love and death lie.

& love is an evil word. Turn it backwards/see, see what I mean? An evol word.

I can't love anymore.Except for you...I love you so much it hurts to breathe.

Birthing hope from the madnessthat perches on the fenceof our once perfectdreams.

Our past sins, our fractured lives--soon nothing but drowned stars in dark skies.

depth and substance.the two most exquisite qualities. be it in a poemor a person.

some poems frothand foam and rise...out of my morning cup ofmist-sweetened coffee.

Not words. nor laughter. but rather someonewho will fall in lovewith your silence.

You can save many lives but the most courageous act is to save your authentic-self.

let me diefrom having being drunk onindigo skies, my liver...overflowing with stars.

Remembrance and reflection how allied!What thin partitions Sense from Thought divide!

moonlight disappears down the hillsmountains vanish into fogand i vanish into poetry.

Through windows,in wishing wells,whispering in the wind...that's where I find you.

For every moment of suffering,Others will arriveThat will instead pierce you with joy.