It’s the roots, which are invisible, that make you so invincible.
You are the unwritten poem that I always carry folded in the pocket of my heart.
Strong roots can make you stand or stumble depending on your relation to them.
Tease her with your touch or she’ll tase you with her absence.
Her eyes are planets whose subjects aren’t subject to the laws of gravity.
She’s a tornado in a tank top leaving wreckage in her wake.
Your jagged edges always surrender to the soft lines in the face of my poetry.
i have a fatal attraction to your mismatched fragments & your meaningless tangents seem to mean the world to me.
Make love to her mind but don’t leave her mindfucked.
