When you kissed me, I lied.

I let you kiss me because I wanted someone to love me.  
I was selfish, I wanted to soothe my craving for attention, soft and kind love.

It’s because you’re warm and safe, I still do get the urge to trust you with love.
In fact you’re handsome while so insecure.

But I shouldn’t have kissed you, because I knew I didn’t want you but your aroma.
I chewed it and played with it to spare your feelings and to ebb my shame

but believe me, I’m happy to have made your acquaintance on that awful day that appeared on paper as perfect.
On the day when the last one I loved, introduced me to you

sometimes this overwhelming joy
brings earth in sight of paradise,
the anxious mind that would destroy
such ecstasy with ill advice
stilled in its ancient chattering
of good & evil understood,
imposed as bitter reckoning
beneath the stone where moses stood.
at other times the mourner's song
has wormed its way inside my head,
an occupation loud & long,
as if it pushed itself instead
of beauty, love and holiness,
insistent with its emptiness.

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)

Not much else to it
Just have to undo it
The former conception
Of what defines good
Reservation’s reluctance
Prevents what it could
In some ultimate form
Really mean to another
Or better still
Even you
Yet to uncover

Hey, hey, what's there to say
Silence is all there is today
For I have no meaningful words to utter
No helpful ones either

Of course I'll lend an ear
Talk your hearts out, do not fear
A nod, a tap, or, a hug
I'll give what's necessary, even a shrug


Say what you mean, and mean what you say
Then say it once again, for good measure
Don't worry, your words I'll treasure
Take your time, speak at your own leisure

relationship wise in this world
where varied type of female seem possessed
and ye devil painstakingly task me
through this, that or the other
it's truly via grace of steadfast
i remain emotionally unavailable or unoccupied

I don't care
I never did
I never will

I don't care about the stabs
I don't care about the lies
I don't care about the loss

I never did
I never will

I don't care about you abandoning me in the middle of nowhere or making me doubt every single person I meet or forcing me to look at the mirror and despise the foolishness I had.

I don't care about all the above.

I try to convince myself every night that I don't.
But, I do;
I fully keenly wholesomely do care and my care was my doom.

it’s official—
i hate being alone.
this isn’t a poem
but
it’s words
i needed to say

I'm
Tired
Of
B
R
E
A
T
H
I
N
G

Tired of

S
E
   E
    I
     N
       G

This hatred in humanity
And
The
Delicates
Being

T    O     R    N

Apart
So quickly
Without listening
To their glistening
Fragile
Beautiful words

You shouldn't long for the past,
- They say
But, I long for it anyway

I close my eyes, drift away, not good
- They say
Not worried, I do it anyway.

I  see it is only normal, it's okay
- No matter what they say
So go ahead, just drift into times past

As long as you do not stay

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.

I can’t decide
if I’m comforted by the fact
that every thought  
I’ve ever had
has probably been had
before

And I don’t know
which is worse
That we are, perhaps
incredibly,
undeniably
not special at all
Or that we incredibly,
undeniably
are

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.

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

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

she soaks herself in his hurt
and it d
            r
            i
            p                
     ­       s                
                         o
                         u
                          t

of him
ever so slowly,
infecting her.
all she wanted was for him to be
drained
so he could live without pain
but now, she thinks
living is pain.

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

           Love                                  is                      
wr­itten                    in                    stone
       which                                slowly
             fades                          to
                   sand                   ..                                          
                    ­     ..                 ..
                             . . . . . . .
                              . . . . . .
                                . . . .
                                  . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It’s the kind of sadness where your rib cage
Contorts
And twists and
Snaps.

Depression doesn’t float through my veins
It crawls through my bones, with dagger hands
And winding movements.

I cannot breathe.

And yet there was nothing taken from me.

There is a bustle to claim life as our own everywhere.
However, the spirit of life has abandoned us and disappeared.

You are the sea.
You are cruel.
You are cold.
And I love you.

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.