Can't get over you

Instead

I'll forgive myself

For thirsting over you

They will tell you
All poetry has been written
There is nothing new
Under the moon
But let me tell you
They don’t know you
You are as unique
As the DNA that exists
Within your frame
The ripples on your thumbprint
No one ever had the same.

Listen...

You have something to say
Say it proudly
Say it boldly
Never let them scold you.

Never let them make you go away.

People hit their quota of sadness
I just have to pretend to be okay

Through The Leaves
The Sun Allows
Golden Shreads Across
Her Boughs
While Around Her Roots
Where Nectar Reigns
There's Jam On Tap
From Marmalade Veins

I could be looking at you
and not utter a single word
but in my mind
I have already put together
a hundred words
that would later on
become my poetry.

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

Am I Like the girls in your life?
the ones you tell me about
Do I stand different?
Or am I just part of the crowd?

You Lost My Trust
In The Dust
Of Your Lust

This disease struck me
Like a brick on pavement
Hard

Everything was
Perfect
Then that brick came along
And with the slightest movement
Destroyed everything

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
The voices say

Why can’t I let them go?
They keep repeating:

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
Why won’t they stop

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
I don’t understand

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
Someone just HELP me understand

This disease is about
Perfection
But it's the biggest
Imperfection about me

Shes like a sunflower!
He exclaimed
Then his eyes darkened
"wanna see me rot her roots?"

I LIKE TO SAY YOUR NAME

I like to say
your name

when you're
not here

turn you
into sound

conjure you out of
thin air

so that you appear
before me

dressed in sound
only

memory sketching in
the rest of you

as if sound
was just an outline

and love
colours you in

adding the voice last
so I can hear you say.

"Hello you..!"
and there you are

as present
as present

can be.

I like to say
your name

when you're
not there.

And then there are times.
When we talk talk and talk.  
Will pour our Hearts.
Will try not to Cry.
But no matter what
There will be no Response.

I see her down the concrete path, head bowed low.
Her steps have the loneliness of old dust,
stooped over shoulders as she is, like a weeping willow.
I see her down the concrete path, head bowed low.
She knows of pain, of trauma, of which she cannot let go,
and dreams of no tomorrow, toward which she lusts.
I see her down the concrete path, head bowed low.
Her steps have the loneliness of old dust.

"I'm an open book"
She says

Written in
code.

So many people focus on finding love
I'm too busy finding myself

RESENTMENT
18 February 2020

There are things. that I no longer do.
Other things, no longer true.
My life is changing, in many lovely ways.
I cannot keep alive, all the older days.
Never would I say, that we are through.
Simply showing, I have grown, but still care for you.
I wish you all the joy in life, that I have found.
Through blood and strife, we are ever bound.

You don't know
why the dog is
afraid of you:
I do.

she is a happy ending,
not everyone can wait for.

don't leave me alone

even if I begged you so

trying so hard to let go

I'll hold on tighter

don't leave me alone

even if I said so

I'm desperately screaming inside my head

no I'm not okay

the voices say I'm a burden

so I shut my mouth and forget I'm broken

I can feel it

every inch of my skin

I'm sorry I can't say it

please just leave me alone

I'VE been crying

JUST quit hurting

TRIED to live on

TO you

FORGET the hurt

i've just tried to forget

Dear HP,

This is not a poem
But a question
The answer to which
I do hope you have

Why does my lover claim to love me
But still looks for every opportunity
To let me go?

Is it that she loves me so much
But doesn't think she's worthy of me

Or she doesn't love me enough
To think I'm worthy of her?

softly-uttered
sweet-sounding
syllables

I whisper them with deep mad longing

words
turn
into
poetry

in your name

Beloved

I want to write you
I want to put your smile into epics
Your eyes into ballads
Your kisses into rhymes
I want your hands as a free verse
Your smell a pastoral poem
Every word you speak is like a love song
And I want it
“Tattooed on my soul”
Forever
I want to write everything about you
And fill a thousand books with you
My muse
My love
I want it to well up in my ink
To overflow
Spill off every page
Like I feel your love spill
Onto me
I want to write your every detail
As only a lovesick poet could

Poems aren't written,
they're found,
Somewhere in your head the words are waiting,
They're sprawled across the floor,
You just need to pick them up,
Make a path with them,
Let your path guide observers,
And if you can't write,
Walk down somebody's else's path first,

my feelings don’t stop
they run and run like the water from the faucet
into the bath you prepared for us
and by the time you and I get in the tub
it overflows
lavender scented bubbles coating the white tiles of your floor
I try to clean it up but the ground just get sticky
and I feel your eyes bore into the back of my head
as I mop up the leftover bath salts with your faded, yellow towel

another kind act of yours ruined by my worries

i can feel your hand loosening its grip around mine
as we step onto the subway platform
and you don’t grab at my waist
while I make oatmeal in your kitchen like you used to
back when my bruises were endearing and I was light and new

but my emotions peek through the cracks
that past lovers left inside of me
the hole my father made in my heart when I was 8 years old
occasionally shows itself when you ask why
I can no longer drink orange juice in the morning

and when the sun makes it way through the curtains
and shines onto my body
it’s easy to see all the pieces broken inside of me
and suddenly i'm not the dream you thought I was

Not mine
Pointless worrying
Not yours
Pointless questioning
Not his
Pointless arguing
Not hers
Pointless doubting
Not theirs
Pointless measuring
God's time.

i dreamt of you once again-
i wish i had not woken up.

but you see -
she has
a tendency
to be silent
when it gets
real loud
inside her head.