I still remember
Scattering
Stars
Accross the
Canvas

You once
Caused me
To
Hate

Decorating my
Darkness
Masking it
With
Art

Always
Was my
Strong
Trait

Defeatedly,
I still
Crumbled
At the
Knee
Of your
Black clothes
& Red
Rose.

-it's a good thing I'm a lot stronger now.

I wish we could try again

You walked
          back  into  my  life
                    for the
            second time like
                  you had
          always lived there,
              like my heart
      was a home built just
                    for you.

            Here  I  was. . .
            thinking
            magic didn't really
            exist,
            and now that's
            all I see
             when I
             look  at  you.

            And in
            the middle
            of my chaos
            there
            you are.
And  in  your  eyes  is a  beautiful  poem                                                                  ­                    Jon York   2019

I still remember
Frollicking in the garden with you
Falling in love with
Magical colorful lights
Your hand entwined in mine

Sweaty palms
Widened pupils &
Your pretty eyes
Infront of mine

A fairytale,
As psychedelic
Trips usually are
That's what you were
One big trip
An illusion
An idea of who
I thought you were

What I thought we were
What I was to you
Wasn't enough
Didn't mean more
Than the next party
We escaped to

It wasn't until
Frollicking in the garden
Past cold fingertips &
Warm coffee sleeves
A beautiful family
Holding hands

Fresh baby face
All theirs to hold
Did I realize
That's what I
Wanted
Instead

-It was within that one moment I wanted to escape to reality for a change.

i wrote you
a letter every day
letters to tell you
just how i feel

written in neat, curved
writing i told you
just how sweet
i thought you were
how you made my heart
glow

letters in which i wrote
with various colors of ink
pouring out my whole being
to you

i wrote you
a letter every day.

i wrote you letters in which
i told you how you made me
bloom.

eventually
i found myself
pressing harder on
the paper
than i had before.

creating tears in them
similar in shape
and size
as the ones
inside of me.

i began to send
letters
with creases
and bumps
and stains
splattered with tears

pouring
from my eyes

as i wrote
the anger
bubbling within me.

my last letter
addressed to you
contained
no words

but was blank.
because
i had none that

could reach
as far

and deep

into the cracks
of my
heart

to describe
just
what you

had left
of me.

There is a
Fine-line
Boy
Between
Soaking in
Self-Interest
As your
Standard
Of decisions
& Healthily
Doing you

Is it really
Unhealthy to
Love
With your
Entire
Soul
Or to
Drain
Someones
Instead?

-When I packed my bags I took my empathy with me.