poetry

"I feel there is an angel in me' she'd say 'whom I amconstantly shocking"

"I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all?"

"Nobody the dead man & Nobody the livingNobody is giving in & Nobody is givingNobody hears me but just Nobody caresNobody fears me but Nobody just staresNobody belongs to me & Nobody remainsNo Nobody knows nothingAll that remains are remains"

"But I don't shut up and I don't die.I liveand fight, maddeningthose who rule my country.For if I liveI fight,and if I fightI contribute to the dawn."

"A white wedding dress, once worn, is like the ghost of a moment, trapping feelings of forever into fabric that’s never to be tried on again."

"Come windless invaderI am a carnival ofStars, a poem of blood."

"There is another world, and it is in this one."

"Five minutes are enough to dream a whole life, that is how relative time is."

"I need you because I know I deserve you but let me fall in love with you one last time before I let go. So I can remember the beautiful imperfection that rattled my bones."

"One! two! and through and throughThe vorpal blade went snickersnack!He left it dead, and with its headHe went galumphing back."

"Out of love,No regrets--Though the goodnessBe wasted forever.Out of love,No regrets--Though the returnBe never."

"And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,That kings for such a tomb would wish to die."

"I walked a mile with Pleasure;She chatted all the way;But left me none the wiserFor all she had to say.I walked a mile with Sorrow;And ne’er a word said she;But, oh! The things I learned from her,When Sorrow walked with me."

"To be a poet is to have a soul so quick to discern, that no shade of quality escapes it, and so quick to feel, that discernment is but a hand playing with finely-ordered variety on the chords of emotion--a soul in which knowledge passes instantaneously into feeling, and feeling flashes back as a new organ of knowledge."

"I know the placeI know the place.It is true.Everything we doCorrects the spaceBetween death and meAnd you."

"Perfumes are the feelings of flowers."

"Does something which exists on the edge have no true relevance to the stable center, or does it, by being on the edge, become a part of the edge and thus a part of the boundary, the definition which gives the whole its shape?"

"She wasn't broken. She was just bent, over the chance of being ignored by the one she loved."

"You have to die a few times before you can reallylive."

"أعرفُ أنني عندما أقع في الحبسيكون الفصل شتاءًاوستسري في جسدي قشعريرةفلن أدري أسببها البردأم كوني معك؟"