I feel I can't tell you things,
Because you'll get upset.
And everytime words spill out my mouth,
My heart fills with regret.

It would be simple and easy,
If you weren't so full of grief,
And you rant everything out,
But I'm not allowed to speak.

You say you're feeling ******,
And that's understandable,
But you might aswell be in a *****,
Because you haven't grown up at all.

I live in a humble seaside town.
There's nothing much to do here,
Unless you want to drown.

The sea air is refreshing,
You know everyone around,
Mutual friends and distant relatives are always here to be found.

City people come down to enjoy the beach.
Scoffing on ice cream,
And hearing the seagulls screech.

Jumping into the sea on a hot summer's day,
Getting sunburnt on their backs,
From the suncream they forgot again.

I live in a small seaside town,
There's nothing much to do here,
Except a few arcades around.

The sea air is refreshing,
Especially in the rain,
When you can walk and think for yourself without people driving you insane.

City people come down to enjoy the beach,
Talking obnoxiously loud,
Throwing chips at seagulls for a bit of peace.

Jumping into the sea on a hot summer's day,
As the local people mope around,
Wishing they'd go away.

Busy yourself with writing,
Poetry, Music, whatever.
Smother yourself with the enlightening vision,
Of two people being together.

Stifle yourself with feelings,
And never let them know.
That the sea you're swimming in is freezing,
And they're the undertow.

I can't seem to write poems anymore,
Even though I'm up at 4 AM,
Notepad ready and ballpoint pen.

But nothing seems to spring to mind,
Except for the thought that I'm wasting my time.

I can't seem to write poems anymore,
My creativity has been forgotten and my mind sore.

But nothing seems to be working,
And everyday I find,
The most horrible and degrading thoughts,
Lurking in my mind.

Who is "You?"
Who could "You" be?
Could "You" be a loved one?
Could "You" be me?

What is the purpose of "You?"
Are they intertwined and underlined in everything "You" do?
I mean obviously it's down to chance,
Coincidence and circumstance,
But what does "You" mean?

They arrive pristine only to please themselves.
Is "You" in good health?
I haven't said,
But now "You" is in your head,
Just like they were in mine before.

It's three in the morning,
And I'm sat up in bed.
My head constantly repeating,
All the things you said.

I never thought,
That it would be you.
The one to judge and scrutinize,
Everything I do.

I never tell you things,
Because secrets you cannot keep,
And if you were an ocean,
I'd be drowning deep.

You see love and I have never really been friends,
I mean we'd wave awkwardly to eachother,
Through mutual pretence,
But that's about it.

We'd make awkward eye contact on the train,
Then ignore eachothers existence,
As if it was simple and plain,
But nothing more than that.

To be honest with you,
Love and I barely know eachother,
Well I mean I think I know a few of their lovers,
But nobody that's stuck around for long enough.

And the problem with love,
Is when you go to shake their hand,
You've got everything you want to say planned,
But it all falls down and shatters at your feet.

Just like everytime,
My heart skips a beat,
Whenever my eyes are left in your wake.