If you're not a gold dust in the desert, stay that way until you're scooped up by the wind and dumped in a gold quarry.

I still love you
But I don’t think I really knew you
Can my heart stop this please

To love is one of the greatest gifts.
It enriches you with empathy, fondness,
a sense of closeness.

Yet, when you only know what it is like to love,
how can you know when someone loves you?

Brain, brain go away
Don't want to listen one more day
Already lonely and afraid
Feel insecure and full of shame

Brain, brain don't act this way
You're always angry; Filled with hate
You know we're joined; Can't separate
Yourself your punching in the face

Brain, brain what can I say
To make it so you see things straight
Don't know how much more I can take
Of constant warring and debate

Brain, brain it's getting late
This journey's not some endless race
Life's flying by and at this pace
Forget a win; Not gonna place

Brain, brain let's medicate
I'll feed you drugs and we'll sedate
The only way to mitigate
Discrepancies we generate

Brain, brain we sadly waste
This outcome feels like it was fate
But never was there a sealed date
Fulfilling what we self-create

Brain, brain so much we faced
Success so close could almost taste
Instead our tail we always chased
We'll die alone sad and disgraced

He asked her what it's like living with anxiety.

She smiled sadly, "It's a never-ending pulse-race. Like knowing you don't want to jump off a cliff but not being able to talk yourself down from it.

Your fears take on a nebulous, unidentifiable form that tightens around your throat and incapacitates you.

There is no calm. No peace. Only the edge of a very strained thread."

I woke up from a nightmare
I could not stand to keep
to myself

you were stretched across the couch
coffee going cold on the table
a half finished cigarette
still burning

you wrapped me up
in kind words that
I could not bare
to hear

whispered into my ear
"one day we will go wandering
and this tiny house will overspill
with dreams'

you are not your memories, darling
you are not the bad things
that have been done to you
you are a fierce flame
that warms my heart

forget them, my love
they are nothing
and you, and you
are everything

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)

And I stand here on the other side of the lake,
looking at that bridge where we use to meet!
I stand here, feeling the early winter breeze,

listening to your music, I sand here

I stand here as the sun rises on the other side of the lake, I break, my heart aches, I stand here!

Staring at that bridge, imagining your hair dancing to the falling leaves, as their color changes to bring in the winter breeze that you wait for every year

I wonder if I really am kind hearted.
Most people think it’s true,
But maybe I’m just afraid of being mean-
Maybe I’m afraid of being you.

To the left
and to the right
both parties listen up
With out you
both cooperating
I couldn't accomplish much
So to think
we could run a country
without working together
SEEMS DUMB

I
kept
dead flowers
in a vase

they
reminded me
of you

no one loves me
but they claim they care
if they really did wouldn't they see

i am falling apart
fragile to the touch
yet they keep on pushing me

closer to the edge
and they think i can take more
so they push farther till i'm at the brink

it's like they know i can't swim
but they are going overboard
and they'll be suprised when i sink

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."

lights flicker
in the distance
far far below

I’m here
looking down on it all
wrapped in a blanket
a book lies next to me
pages flipping themselves
in the cool summer breeze
inside are the sounds of life
outside are the sounds
of the questioning
the air is filled
with random notes
fluttering around me
like guardian angels
I know why they’re here

darkness
sat down
next to me
to keep me company
we look at the flickering lights
in the distance
he tells me
you’d do fine down there
if you wanted to
be a light
surrounded by light
but then he shifts his gaze
the moonlight
dancing through his being
but you’d do great
up there
be a light
where no one has dared to be
and with that
he left

Strange to find joy and sadness at the same time I see the kids smile bringing joy but sadness as I miss that part of me watching my kids grow up time will pass kids will grow I must let it go and enjoy

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

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.

we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections

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

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.

Sorry,
I love myself more.

you are always leaving me
yet waiting is what i do best
i collect every fragment of you
and let it fill the void inside
but remnants are never enough
is it wrong for me to desire?
to talk about our future together
as you lay under the rubbles
of your ruined past?
i am no virtuous saint
but i want to leave this hell
yet waiting is what i do best

Am I the villain in this story?
Am I the one to blame?
For months your words ate at me,
If I’m the bad guy, give me a name.

If that's what it takes,
For you to sleep safe and sound,
Call me what you want,
But it takes two to participate.

Saw it all,
One last time...
Slowly, pressed "DELETE"
Swore to myself,
This mistake shall not repeat.

But I know, you know
I was bluffing.

It happened again.
I saw it all one more time,
One last time.
But this time, my hands don't tremble
I press not slowly, but swiftly "DELETE"
And I know, for sure,
It won't repeat.

i do not sing the storm. i do not sing rage, wrath
the lightning bolt, the scream. Despair i do not sing
i do not sing struggle–revenge poisonous blast–
the hurricane, the quake that tears the city of peace

i do not sing no border. i do not sing no flag
i do not sing no warrior but she that fights all fear
Poverty & sickness-night, the blade, the club, the trap
blows, wounds, cries, lies, bursts & war-blood i do not sing

i do not sing despise for any thing or being
i do not praise no richness no governors, no kings
From all this flower-garden i pick one single rose:
creation is just dew upon the rose of love

i celebrate one flame. i only sing one blues:
the flame of endless loving with you & only you

If time is
a currency,
then spending it with you
was the best investment
I ever made.

caught in a conflict
one has my time
one has my attention

he has my heart
the other one has my affection

my heart is tied to both
but the strings are getting tangled

which one do I have a future with?

You are my unsent message.
The cursor blinking rhythmically,
With my heartbeat,
Waiting,
For me to hit send.
But I am not ready,
And I’m not sure if I ever will be
So I left it like that.
Unsent. Unseen. Unread.
“I miss you.”

going home isn’t always
returning to a place.
sometimes
it is returning to yourself.

Eyes are the window to the soul,

But what if,

You don't have one of those?