I’m a paradox.
I say I don’t care,
when I really do.

I say I don’t need someone
to ask me how I am,
while I am longing them to.

I say my voice matters
and act as though it doesn’t.

I want someone to know my emotions
when I haven’t told them
and never want to tell them either.

I want to be happy
but I think of sad thoughts.

I am lazy,
yet I am ambitious.

I crave attention,
love and support
but reject when it
comes in my way.

I am strong,
yet run back to the ones who hurt me.

I am a conflicted contradiction.

Warm like the sunset.
Brisk as November.

I lie between your thighs with meaningful intent.
Orange and yellow phospherence fills my space after you have left.

Dense air fills the area.
Smoke infiltrates my lungs
inhaling the poison, I become addicted.

The aura grows demented.
Brown and yellow.
Orange and green.
The haze is to be seen as if in a childhood dream.

Something quite familiar,
but nothing like I've ever seen.

Distillation of my soul.
What has once been lost,
is now sure to be found.

Distortion of the mind dominates the spirit.
The heart inevitably beats pure, white, innocence.

I'll judge myself more frequently than anyone else.
Passion explicitly rests in the mind.
My desires are a gift to me.
The sun setting will always be free.

my poems are so good that they're bad. they are infinitely deep and meaningful and therefore don't mean anything at all.

Is it not a paradox that her deception should leave her beauty so unmarked? Her winsome countenance - generously admired - leaves her suitors abject; mere puppets on a string.

Verily, the essence of her is as a tarnished trinket. For to mine own soul she appears as jaded as a ***** house quean. Her eyes which once shone with the light of truth unblemished, a colourless and infinite mire overgrown with the entangled falsehoods she has seeded.

Falling in love is terrifying.
I do not fear
The heartbreak,
Or your love for me
And mine for you.
I am afraid
Of the epilogue:
The unknown which lurks
Behind the pages of our end.
I am afraid because
I’ve never been so in love
And I have yet to accept
This paradox:
The more we fear the end,
The more we love one another
But the more we love
The more scared we become.
My love,
Choosing to love you is the happiest
And bravest choice I will ever make.

we really liked each other huh
though we never said it out loud
we kept that thought to ourselves
we learned through our actions
subtle but powerful, we knew.
the irony of one to love the polar opposite.
of course you were uncertain.
you cant mix the + and - of a battery and just
jam it in thinking it will work
maybe thats why you never confessed.
if life ever decided not to give happy endings,
the moments we've shared together  
taught me that also love has barriers
of what was something that couldve been a happy ending
if love and religion disagrees
this is the paradox of you and me

Heart:
I have a book of songs,
a collection of antique emotions,
carefully crafted for someone
Like how seedlings germinate
inside the womb of the good green Earth
feeling the warmth of a watchful Sun

Yet I pick up another,
a chronicle sans embellishments,
A tale every bit pure, every bit unspun
A familiar fear grips me -
clouds me, maims me, ****** me
as I open it with glum expectations

But I feel myself break,
to know of my absence from this tome,
with each page I anxiously turn
Did I not deserve
a chapter, a line, atleast a word?
Maybe I will find a footnote - none!

Mind:
Oh my dear heart,
Do not expect in return something better
because you've surrendered to her memories
Equivalence is just, but justice is not a quality

How do you plan to **** the one
whom you've already granted immortality?