With the amount of trauma,
And amount I've suffered,
For as long as I've endured, these both.

I realized long ago,
This would be healing till I die.
And I'm scared, of how long I have to go.

imagine
what it feels like to find
the One

Desire burns through
the clothing of my civility
as easily the fumbled ember from my cigarette.

Not everything needs a poem
Sometimes
it’s already

good enough.

Red were the roses, the ones I left on your casket,
Orange were the leaves, the ones in your tree,
Yellow were the bruises, the ones that covered you head-to-toe,
Green were the stains, the ones left on the hems of your jeans,
Blue were your lips, the day you were found in your noose,
Indigo was the night sky, that night that you died,
Violet was that bruise, the one you wore around your neck

erase my face
erase my name, call me
nameless
and then send me to the wind,
throw me out to sea;
erase these hands
              leave me soulless;
my whole life escaped in
trying to disappear
             ––what an ache,
what a waste, what a regret,
I should've just lived instead.

I love the way you glow,
the way you stand like a man,
the way you entrance me
with your romantic hands.
The masculine smell from your
chest shifts in vivid depths
over my flesh, your breath
blowing through my hair
as I stare at the heavens
of your handsomeness.
You are a million reasons
that makes me believe and see
peace when I’m surrounded
by your endearing existence.
I am aching to play with you,
feel my fingernails gliding
around your waist, the arousal
climbing higher as I explore
your form, diving into your
wild succulence.

God wanted to bless you.

But you left his place

in a hurry to catch your

Flight.

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

It's a treasure trove
Words tossed up like confetti
Falling in our hearts

The moon is always around at night
When your darkness can’t be more bright
Feel the echo attack the silent
It will haunt you, leave you violent

i am my fathers child

i never learned how to
accept the love i was given

these hands
so much like his

refuse to remain open
curling into fists at the
suggestion i am enough

i’ve never allowed myself
to need anyone

i am my fathers child

she always smelled like oranges
now i stay away from citrus
distance is
tough
but you see trust
is miles away

Every time I here sirens,
I think of you.
I think of the lights I saw.
The reds and the blues.
I had no idea it was you.
And to this day,
I still flinch at the thought,
that it could be someone else I care about.

Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?

“Social media is taking over our lives,”
she tweeted angrily.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

I never told a lie to you
that I love you
I told a lie to myself
that you love me..

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.

I see you. The real you.
And I think it’s brave and beautiful the way you love despite all the ways life tried to destroy you

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)

Equations
in the sand

Laid out
and toweling off

Curvatures to
algebraic form

They define her lines
shape her axis

My island of
expectation

Amid summer's long
subterfuge

you HAVE
to go your own way.

whether you like it or not,
that's where you're going.

you might as well
make it
weird and fun
as hell.

I take another breath,
I take another cigarette.

Smoke rises with regret,
but you help me deal with my stress.

I'm forever in your debt,
and forever in your book of dead.

I take another breath,
I take another cigarette.


My love, you smell of death,
but you always pull me from the edge.

I wish I would have left,
now you're always in my head.

Smoke rises with regret,
but you help me deal with my stress.

I take another breath,
I take another cigarette.

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.

I cannot draw pictures but if I could , I would draw every detail
be they proper and good.
You would be amazed as you get lost in each curve ,
the bitter church lady would yell , you have some nerve !!!

But as it stands a face I cant draw , instead I write letters ,

if you read them all?
,
You may see faces , mountains and trees , or someone that is dying from an unchecked disease.

Words retain power and the ones that I write
paint one thousand faces when their read in the light