Sometimes the break in your heart is like the hole in the flute. Sometimes it’s the place where the music comes through.

You can stand on the cliff of my heart and shout nothing but ‘ugly’ through me. I promise all I will echo back is ‘Beauty, beauty, you have always been beauty

I’ve written this poem before but always through a window, never through an open door.

Everything but "I LOVE YOU" is small talk.

I am wrong more often than i am writing and even then i am often wrong

You can find me on the moon waxing and waning. My heart full of petals, every single one begging 'Love me, love me, love me. Whoever I am. Whoever I become.'

Right now there’s a man on the street outside my door with outstretched hands full of heartbeats no one can hear. He has cheeks like torn sheet music every tear-broken crescendo falling on deaf ears. At his side there’s a boy with eyes like an anthem no one stands up for.