found this poem

in the echoes of the dark
i touch air
and try to remember 
what its like
to breathe
—  each breath feels like broken glass stained with black (l.e.h)
To find someone who understands you inside out, who knows you more than you do, who simply just wants you as much as you want them, is truly erotic.
—  Lukas W. // Talk about intimacy

Dear Woman:
Sometimes
You’ll just be too much woman.
Too smart, too beautiful, too strong.
Too much of something that makes a man feel like less of a man,
Which will start making you feel like you have to be less of a woman.

The biggest mistake you can make is removing jewels from your crown to make it easier for a man to carry.
When this happens, I need you to understand,
You do not need a smaller crown–
You need a man with bigger hands.

—  Michael E. Reid, “Dear Woman”

‘She is my best friend, I can’t live without her.’ She admitted

‘How come?’

‘I was lost, I lost myself while trying to find myself, and I couldn’t find my way back, I was trying so hard to find myself and I didn’t realize that I lost myself, I became something that I’m not…’ She confessed

They looked confused 'how did she help though?’

She smiled 'because she came and she found me, I thought I was lost but she found me, she knew who I really was….she found me and she brought me home’

—  poems-she-wrote (part 2)
There aren’t any second chances for us. We have to make it this time.
—  Journal Entry; Summer 2013
I miss seeing your name pop up on my phone.
Now a days,
I feel so alone.
I just feel so unwanted,
so disregarded on my own.
It felt like you were the person to care for me,
but now there’s no one that’s there for me.
Now you look at her as if she’s the most beautiful thing you have to see,
that’s the way you used to look
at me.
—  a.a.
The angels wings they burn and glow. The death to be told, it makes me mourn. Yet through the past and past the present the angels live through the heavens.
The angels banned, banned to earth. For the sins I committed through love and birth. Though they walk the streets and dream of heaven. Their wings still burn, still burn with revenge.
The angel fell and fell too hard. Became a demon, a demon apart. His hands they burned with ash and coal. His dreams they turned to charcoal. His face became a grotesque way. All for what, you say? For loving a human girl and now this was his fate.
—  Coral-vellichor