Sometimes, when inspiration runs dry, I drink classical music until my words spill out.

Everywhere I go, your beauty spills into my day. The trees were never this verdant. The birdsong never this sweet.

Let me take you in my arms, spilling down all my dreams into your eyes and draining down all my love into your heart. Let me make the whole universe sings the song that I wrote for you, where the sun craves to go down every morning and moon waits to raise again every night eagerly just to see us burn down the walls we have built around us, inside each other's arms.

Is every writer's keyboard a spill magnet?

..i spill intothe kind of silenceonly Khalil Gibran would understand.

You should be more carefulwhen you move, my dearwhat with you...spilling moonlightinto my poem, with a mereflick of your hand.

Widening blood puddles spilled from suffocating death wounds.