He's
a pluviophile during summer,
a selenophile when the moon's not around,
a heliophile at night,
an astrophile in the morning.
He's in love
with the things he can't have.
He's fascinated
with impossibility and lies.
He's a paradox, an irony.
He's but a lover of contrast,
so it scares me a lot
whenever he promises
that he'll never leave me behind.
- Jan Di
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In Dreams, We Find Our Rhymes
PoetryWell, I just can't describe my poems better than how this piece of mine describes them. 🌠 "What My Poetry Is Made Of" I am not someone who has rich vocabulary. My phrases, my clauses will always be ordinary, so I just use the simple words that I...
