I’m seeking inspiration, as this is what I am lacking,
For me be the source of this,
A tranquil guide, my focus, my distraction
Tell me the stories of what makes your heart so tender.
Show me your memories, and allow me to imagine you as a child
Tell me of what you fear and what creates warmth within you.
Let me discover what makes your body tremble
Allow me to see your smile which is hidden,
to hear the laughter when your kind of comedy is spoken,
The real, the genuine and the deepness within you
This is what I wish to be my inspiration.
In a mind which apparently is my own,
Racing at an unimaginable speed,
Of myself and my own surroundings,
A non-existent part of the day,
Trembling like the finest strings on a guitar,
Like a fish washed upon the shore gasping for some air,
A far-fetched feeling currently not in reach
An eye for an eye,
A heart for a heart.
You stole mine, so I went for yours
But found no place to start.
For where a heart should surely be,
A sign was in its place
(I guess it's common courtesy),
And this is what it states:
"I took my heart to give to you
To show I love you so,
But that same love grew wings and flew,
And where it is, I do not know!
I've taken yours to keep it safe until it finally lands.
Until then, I'll remember our last embrace and dream of your romance."
I hope your heart does soon return, and then to mine does bind --
For one heart without another is such a pitiful thing to find.
Why can't love be simple,
Why can't love be kind,
Why can't love be like those tv shows,
that we always see online.
Why must everything be difficult,
Why must love be cruel,
Why must love keep backstabbing you,
Why isn't love true?
Why is love used as a weapon,
Why must love be a tool,
Why must love hold someone back,
Why must love be a whirlpool?
Why must love make one cry,
Why must love sacrifice,
Is it that hard,
To find simplicity?
Don't let the simple sad get to you
It's annoying and rude
But here's some soup
It has your favorite noodles
And I even drew you some doodles.
Your feet smell but your heart reeks
Don't worry you're such a geek!
You'll figure it out
But I won't let you do it alone
Just call me through the phone
I'll tell you again that it'll be okay
And just like everyday
I'll love you the same
the clouds look like vape smoke
and like, um, gross.
all of my friends are still confused as to
why poinsettias have nothing to do
w/ kissing you underneath mistletoe
there is straw basket suspended from the ceiling
holding five evenly spaced lightbulbs,
which, if you think about it, is probably
the most inefficient way to hold onto light
there is a girl, underneath these lights
sketching an image from her computer screen
and i’m honestly about to warn her
that if she doesn’t move quickly
all of the light above her might spill out over her
in third grade, i learned that indians
wove straw baskets so tightly that
they held even drops of water, even though
they weren’t even indians
wait! she folds up her laptop now, and puts
her sketchbook to the side, and there are obviously
only two possible reasons for this:
either she sensed that i am writing a poem about her
or she has recently drowned in all of the light
taught to articulate concisely
to breathe fresh air, easily
but plagued with pollution
from corporate illusion
i refuse to stay still
in the sprout of a revolution
so I am letting go
of what smog still resides
what does not fuel my insides
this is goodbye,
to everything I have that I do not need,
and a hello