I know of a man who sells flowers-
cut with a sharp knife
they do not live too long, after that.

i don't know you,
you slip down a street,
peruse a café window
looking for something
to eat, the inner
stirrings of your soul
a mystery to me & it's
funny because with time
I could love you, but as
of now you are like
any other undiscovered
book sat on a shelf
collecting dust, i blink
& you're gone, my
favourite read lost in a
sea of bodies; millions
of stories bleeding down
streets that i will never
meet.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
    So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

I dont want to be the bold words
Yelling to be noticed

Nor the italics
Wanting to be different

Not even the commas and periods
That set the pace and flow

I want to be the silence
The beauty unheard

Present in all works, that's what i want to be
Nothing more than the spaces in between

I have no wit, I have no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numbed too much for hopes or fears;
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
A lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is like the falling leaf;
O Jesus, quicken me.