How do you feel?
Now that you've taken
The most of all I've ever had?
How do you think?
Now that you've filled
My every waking thought?
How do you see?
Now that you've stopped
My eyes from seeing
Anyone better than you?
How do you touch?
Now that my hands
Will forever long to hold yours?
How do you taste?
Now that I'll never want
To taste anyone's kiss but yours?
How do you hear?
Now that you've stopped
Me from ever wanting
To hear anyone's laughter but yours?
How do you smell?
Now that I'll never be able
To smell your cologne
Without wishing to be
Wrapped in your arms?
How do you sleep?
Now that my every
Dream is of you?
How to you live?
Now that I'll never be able
To live without you again?

you used to buy the case
before the rest of us had the *****
you walked right in to that asian market on 3rd
and placed the beer on the counter
they once asked for your license
you told them you had a dui
they never questioned you again

When out of luck, we ****** our trust
To bitter pointless Seas,
Objects to objects \ love to love
Oh why cannot we be free.
An insect croaks in the head-jelly,
A cuckoo beats in the chest.
While pearls of salt from children's follies
Come crashing down our necks.

He's mud on **** shoes: Never clean,
And though he loves her
Like a dream, they're still apart;
The grass stays green :
You cannot conquer the unseen.
Watching, the invisible policeman shouts:
Evil is lurking, check your route!
But never shall I ever choose his way
I am human
I seize the day.

Flies will eat our faces,
Truly we all rot. This I said to teach
You something life will not.
Screaming along, the Ugly and vain
The cracking full, or Empty train
Rings the official bell of welcome,
Although it only means goodbye.
And yet lovers still wave across the pier
While some others break a lie.

"You're too beautiful to be Aboriginal"

These words are meant to make me blush

Meant to make me smile and act coy

Meant to make me ignore the seething anger that rages beneath
the socially acceptable facade of
a woman that passes as white.

I wish I could write poems about flowers in my lungs
Beautiful, blossoming and everything you need
But all that lived in my lungs has withered
Until I'm nothing but a cage for a carcass
Nothing is beautiful when it's dead
So I cannot write about flowers that grow between my ribs
In my stomach
My heart
Because inside of me there is no sun
There is only black

I could convince myself that I never fell in love with you, that I simply wrote you into a fiction novel that was my life. That you were merely a sub character written on three or four pages within the entire story, but that's not the truth. It was not a fiction story it was my life and you were the main character who was written on every page. There were traces of you running through every aspect of my being. Without realizing it my story revolved around you an my characters relationship. I wish we hadn't disappointed the readers and I could've made them happy about the fact that the two main characters ended happily ever after. That didn't happen though, our story didn't end happily it ended heartbroken.

pieces of you are sprinkled around my day and the small parts paint a mosaic that by the end of the night reminds me of you - i remember all the details

it's hard not to think of your body pressed against mine in this heat because it's the same sun that made us sweat together and it's the same moon that watched us love each other more than ever before and i don't know what's worse, not seeing you or not hearing you

all i want is for you to be near me because your hug burns deep within my skin and before i know it my skin smells of you and my hair locks in brown strings the aroma of your clean shirt and your cologne

maybe this is what love feels like - maybe love is when i'm at th beach for a week and everyday i keep thinking how much i miss you, maybe love is how well i know your smile to the point where i'm down and picture it i smile, maybe love is how my lips know yours better than anyone else's, maybe love is when i sit down and write poem after poem after poem about you because it's a love so deep only ink on paper can understand