When life sings poetry is its voice.

When death rings poetry makes the noise.

Do yourself a favor and write it down.

Long before you were born, and long after you're gone, poetry survives

Do not let your words go extinct

the nicest thing

anyone ever said

to me was when

my wife said "I do"

so I've decided

to propose to her

every morning that

I wake up alive.

Thoughts are like clouds passing by on a windy day. 

Yet today, there is no wind. 

I only see you. 

Did my words carry the same weight as yours did for me? 

Did the moments we shared, naked and vulnerable at the darkest of hours, lose any significance they may have had? 

Attempts at seeing the beauty of a short lived affair are inevitably drowned out by the need to hold on, by my attachment to you. 

I miss you.

Step inside, get away

but all I see,

naked shame.

vulnerable.

scared.

broken.

I am what I am ...

Lust is craving all your attention.

It is an addiction to the idea of you. 

It is a selfish projection of what one wants you to be and what you can be for someone.

It is the inability to distinguish the way you make someone feel from the person you truly are.

It is brief moments of fire, pleasure, passion.

But when the dust settles, lust will always fade.