You died that day.
No, your heart beat on--
But you died that day.
I watched your soul break
And I broke too.
I don't fear the death of me,
I fear the death of you.

I would like to live.

I hate you
But I dont

to bring back time
is my only dream in this crazy world
to separate the simple pieces
of my odd castle
to attach them with hopes
obliterate the blemishes
i miss a ray of light
and petals appear
- memories are here

im glad you waited
but more importantly im glad i took it

testing the waters,
I let him every time.

I don’t know why...
it’s like I have no control over my own mind.

weak sense of self, so he takes advantage

it’s like i know i shouldnt,
yet i don’t want to leave him stranded.

WWWWWWWHHHHHHHYYYYY?!?!?!? LLLLLLLIIIIIIFFFFEEEE IIISSSS HHHHHOOOORRRIIIIIIBBBBLLEE!!!! OOOOOOOHHH MMMYYY GGOOOOOOOODDDD!!

Wait...

Where am I writing this?

GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!!

a little buzz
And a blonde light
Might be all I need
In this life
Full of greed
On a night
Of treed

Worms shall be

Worms shall be
The inheritors
Of this excess.
The flames will be out.
No fires in my mouth.
My tongue will rest
In a silent chest.
All songs just ripples
Fading accross a pond.
A sheath of leaves
Without a sound
Will fall to the ground and
I will be held to account
For my rhyme
In the chronicles
Of wasted time.

Harald Edwin Pfeffer 18-2-2020

I’m so useless
All out of tears
Just wanna lay here
With no one near
I have so much fears
Crippling up in jeers
“Not good enough” is all I hear
My own thoughts I fear

dear quinn,

can you please
listen?
just for a
second.

i know you want
to brush it all off.
and pretend
that you aren't
hurting.

but you have to
listen to me.
you can hurt.
you do hurt.

give yourself time.
but more
importantly.

give yourself the
truth.

love,
quinn

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.

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

snug as that bug in a rug
the one we all imitate now and then
last night the wind got real sporty
battering all and everything
except this bug snug in its rug.

"I'm an open book"
She says

Written in
code.

Day after day, I want to quit
I search for joy but unable to find it
Too cold to cry, left with my bottle overfilled
Warmth is for the happy; yet I still keep up my shield
Depressed, stressed, smoking down this black
If I ever spilled my feelings, no one would have my back
Its days like these that keep me up at night
Got me thinkin that life’s not worth the fight
I keep it pushin tho, no giving in
Cause at judgment, nothing matters but sin

No zippers
Just elastic
This bottomwear
Is fantastic.

the deeper the roots,
the stronger the tree.
the stronger the tree,
the more weight it can bear.
roots cling to others,
making them almost unbreakable.
but the tree planted alone,
has nothing else to cling to.

I wonder what I look like to you.
As your eyes carefully look at me,
Am I as ugly as I seem or as pretty as I deem to be?
Am I a painted perfect picture or a full funny fantastic mess?
Am I what you’re looking for?

I wonder what do I smell like to you.
As I walk past you,
Am I your colors mixed of pink and purple into an ombre affect?
Am I the sweet smelling flowers that draws you in or the soft blue skies that warms up your heart?
Am I what catches your attention?

I wonder what I feel like to you
As we touch,
Am I the touch that electrifies you and makes your heart skip a beat?
Am I the soothing soul that relaxes you into drowning real deep?
Am I what pulls you in?

I wonder what does my voice sound to you.
As we speak the words that we do,
Am I the cause of your laughter or the cause of your anger?
Am I the soothing voice that talks to you at three in the morning?
Am I what you want to listen to?

I wonder what I taste like to you
As we never have before,
Am I what you’re craving for as I wish our lips would touch like hands in hand
Am I the bitter honeybee comb that you long for?
Am I want you want?

Please tell me.
Softly and carefully,
I wonder, what will it be.

I am in the verge
of my own thinking

looking down to
absurdity of the world

looking back to
fast-running confusion

don’t let me jump
to my false conclusion

save me with your erudite
kind of wisdom.

anthologized or unpublished
famous or failed
obscene or obscure
young or old
poets die with their boots on
boots of trochaic luster

Paper.............................clips
.
s
a
f
e
t
y
.
pins..................t
                         h
                         i
                         n
                          .
                          .
       ­                   .
                          .
                ­          .
                          .
                         ­ .
                          l
                        i
        ­              n
                     e
                .   s
            ❤
           .
         💔
        .            
       t
         r
           I
             p
              w
                 I
                   r
                     e
pretty............s............ick

i cant write a good poem no matter how hard i try.
all of them are my previous heartbreaks or my future heartbreaks.
help me please.

I'VE been crying

JUST quit hurting

TRIED to live on

TO you

FORGET the hurt

i've just tried to forget

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

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

A mix
Of joy and pain,
Plain as day
On the lines of pages.

Like a roller coaster,
Poems rise high
As the sunset
But soon sink low
Almost touching the ground.

But the thing about poems,
Is that they take any shape.
Sad
Happy
Painful
Pleasant.

It doesn’t matter
If you just wrote a mourning story,
You can still tell a tale of joy.

I have said that rhymes are liquid.
I wasn’t kidding.
Liquids take any shape and fit the container they are poured in.
And when they aren’t contained
They spill and spread everywhere.
Poetry does too.