I wish that I could love myself
The way I love you
Maybe then
I would stop getting disappointed

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

Midway into a journey
When your steps falter
and the legs stumble
it's a sign to watch your steps
and not change the course.
So be the brute that you are
go back to the forge,
clean your junk,
refine your shape
let the Cronus in you
return with a sharper Scythe
to conquer his world

The sky is looking at us from a safe distance.

"Sorry, you have to face it", I'm telling to my mirror every morning.

If you think that you love me, I love your way of thinking.

Everything is strange, nothing is unusual.

Months have come and went,
time left and spent.
Moments of eternity and bliss,
here now to witness.

A blink as blue skies,
turn gray in old eyes.
Bells have began their knell,
and leaves have all but fell.

Hold on,
cold song,
I long to live.

tender
gentle

softly
exploring

your touch
tells her so much

I spend too many nights thinking
Wondering, writing, dreaming
Of someone who doesn't even think of me

i still
do not know
the poem i've been trying to write
and maybe
that's because
i haven't been
writing one at all
or maybe it's because
the poem i've been trying to write
is not ready for paper
and maybe
i'm the paper
that's not ready for it

the worst part is when
my memories of you twist into
what i've see in pictures and then
when i think of you, i can't tell whether
it's the you i know or the one from the pictures

Sharpen your pencils
learn to be subservient
to hypocrisy

            Kelly McManus

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

i spend my days
pouring myself into the cups of others

only to find that
when it’s time for myself
to take a sip

all that’s left
in my cup
is the remainder of a girl
who gave too much

I traced the texture of your words
Like my heart was blind
And your voice was braille

i want to love you
like a lazy sunday morning
staying in bed
taking our time
sipping coffee
memorising every freckle
like the constellations in the sky
white sheets
and tangled limbs
with the scent of a memory
fresh on our lips.

She was a thrifted sweater and denim and jersey knit sheets
Pizza breath and red wine and toothpaste
Alabaster skin and knotted hair and freckled shoulders
A tangible dream and my favorite good morning
She agreed to let me kiss her and I agreed to let her slip my shirt over my head before she became
Blood and tears
"I trusted you" and "I’m sorry"
Midnight poems and a drunk "I need you"
I’m afraid I loved you like the way I wrote

My entire life,
I have been waiting.
For years,
Almost two decades now
I have been waiting.
Waiting,
For the better parts.
Waiting,
For the “soon”.
Waiting,
For my life to begin.
Because,
I don’t feel like I have lived.
In the nearly twenty years
I have been alive
And breathing
I do not feel
In any of those years
That I have been alive.
I don’t feel like a single breath
That I have taken
Has been real.
I feel as if
All these years
I’ve been stuck
Behind a window
Watching as my life unfolds
Before me.
I feel that
I have had
Zero control.
That I am in the backseat
Letting someone else drive.
That someone else,
Is writing on the pages
Of MY life.
But no more.
I will break that window,
I will take that wheel,
And I will write
My own pages.
My life has begun,
And now -
I’m in control.

I'm sinking farther into the sea
Air cut off, unable to breathe

But it's not all too bad
The water's warm
and the fish look nice

It's a shame I can only see this
By myself
at the end.

You.
Are.
A.
Walking.
Masterpiece.

You are the violin & I am your bow.
You are the mountains & I am your snow.
I am the song sheet & you are my tune.
I am the night sky & you are my moon
I hold you in my heart, I have you on my mind.

You were the elusive dream, I tried to ensnare.
I was the light you couldn't bear.
You were the moth to my flame.
we both got burned.
As our story fades into a memory.
Adieu my heart.
Until the next life.

If only you could see what I saw when my eyes beheld you. Imperfect yet loyal, brave and wild.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Check message
Facebook
Check message
Instagram
Check message
Send message
Wait
Check
Look;

When did relationships
Get defined
By a read receipt?
Will we
Now
Only measure intimacy
By a tweet?

What do we have left,
Why can’t we
Go back
To laughter
In a diner seat

Hover sweet Heather, over the clover, under the thunder of the insect dragon.
Heal sweet Heather, heal the hurt, remove the dirt from my beer sausage; from my wretched, twisted and demented circuitry.

"Bring me my hot dog" my dear Debbie moans.
Morbid sighs, silken thighs, conceal the African butterfly.

"Buffy, Buffy , roughy toughy" the bit*h barks to her demanding dog friend.
"Buffy, Buffy, I've had enoughy!"

Painted lips, spill over hospital white. Chunks and hunks. Flotsam and jetsam of yesterdays lunch.

"Shaddap Shaddap!" her gray head shakes, quivers and quakes,
dispelling myths of flying flakes.
Dispersing moths, displaying snakes.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

Searching for answers,
Question where no one
has really an answer for.
Life can be so complicated,
like the patterns on the wings
of butterfly's

But there's life for, to find
that out. Why we are here,
what's the reason for our
existance.
Is it so important for us
to reach a certain goal.
Ain't it much more important,
that you find happiness and joy
in your heart and soul.

People say “get over it”
But aching hearts are screaming to be free.

People say “get over it”
But they are deaf to all the pleas.

People say “get over it”
But they don’t want those sad souls to succeed.

People say “get over it”
Because they want us to shut up and agree.