so much pain
in the heart's
broken treasure:

so much rain
in the night's
silent azure,

silvery mirrors
scream only tears;
eyes forbid, it mends

lonely lips
with voicelss words
and sudden ends,

bittersweet memories
of once somber past
left ashes in the chest,

your absence hurts
more than anything,
but then all is lost

Infatuation...
is when you find somebody
who is absolutely perfect.
Infatuation says,
"I love you because I need you."

Love...
is when you realize
that they aren't
and it doesn’t matter.
Love says,
"I need you because I love you."

I remember when poems were good not **** like this!

I was unprepared for your lack of self-awareness
and the way you approach life like a
kid running the wrong way with the ball
Sometimes I feel like your mother
sending you to your room so you can tantrum
Other times I feel like your daughter
when you lay out my pill as if I can’t take it myself
There is a difference between being creative and indecisive
between sensitivity and overreacting
You have to find who you are, and stop lifting so many lids
your anxious energy is clinging to my calm like a parasite
eventually, you need to find a calm of your own
take your spinning outside inward, where things are still
I want to help you, and I will, because I love you
but rarely, rarely, do I feel like your lover
partly because I don’t want to anymore
I don’t want your touch, I don’t want your kiss
your hands are annoying me, please let me sleep
I don’t want to gag and choke on your tongue
just rest for a while, so I can figure out how to do this

Why dwell on the comfort
Of dusting off the adversity
That profane the corners
Of our compartments

When we can
Call upon courage
And write for those
Without the strength to crawl out
Of the hollow caves
They live in?

               You
                  And
                    I
Are blessed with the curse of
Seeing beyond the masquerades
Of others
That it becomes haunting not
To tap into their souls

And wander in the
Caves of their minds
To find the reason behind
The warped interior,

The vague, and sometimes
Vivid Answers to
           Why
They're sinking in
Self imposed darkness,
      
          
They feel they're slaves
To and in liberation,

        
They feel they can't be forgiven
For the sins they
Unintentionally created,

      
They feel so empty and hollow
And dead within that there's
Nothing, but dead spaces
Between heart beats,
  
        
They're engulfed in
Flames that they're turning
Everything they caress to ash

With every bit of
                 Taste,
                 Touch,
                 Smell
                
Lulling us into euphorias
Where fragments of
             Sound,
               Images,
                 Fragrances,
                  Thoughts,
Compound to a jungle of words
That we lose ourselves in,
Perhaps then,
We become a tad bit closer
To finding
Ourselves,
Perhaps.