In the beginning you treated my body like a land you pursued
The grass was greener on the other side
And that other side was me
In the beginning you made love to me like I was everything you craved
You had come off a roller coaster ride
And you wanted to ride with me
In the beginning you talked sweet lip bitten words the poet in you conjured
You had me at your every tongue flick
And you flicked your tongue for me
In the beginning we were like newly weds with dreams and highs
You told me to be yours
I still want you to be mine
The beginning seems so long ago...

I'm not broken
Stop telling me I am for as much as I know I shouldn't
I might start to believe you
And break my own **** heart again

That confident and bubbly person I was yesterday?
She's gone now
She was too fake to live long in this world
But I'm here. You can call me bipolar

You don't read my poems anymore
So here's one for you
Roses are dead
Violets are blue
This poem is ****
And I guess you are too

Your ***** seek what your heart cannot bear to take

death of a poet,
in retrospect
it starts out
ever so gradually,
ink dries up
without warning,
and veins purged
of blood, are now empty
chambers of depleted poetry

I got in late and she was there in the foyer waiting.
So I said Hey.

Hi.

Listen, I've been wanting to talk...
But that's when she cut me off.
So you're leaving me again, aren't you?

It was like she took the words right out of my mouth
and shoved them straight down my throat.

So I just turned back around
and left her standing there,
hoping she wouldn't
have to be alone
for too long.

Because I knew she hated being alone.