The Vulnerable Magazine

Those eyes of her's, They looked like little galaxies to you When your heart was filled with love for her Now that the hollows of your heart are empty They're mere blackhole to you//

Me All that I write here is uniquely felt. These poems are like problems dealt. These are some important tears. My mind is a place at the center of which I hope there is a well Which I throw all my thoughts and feelings in. These poems are those feelings and those that I threw down. I have left not a word to unfold. i have left not a tear more to fall. now it is all that you do; you receive or you deceive