She left me with a bouquet of
flowers that never bloomed,
and a muse with bleeding
verses that never rhymed

At nights when her name
is dancing on my tongue,
I hunger for the cherries
she once promised to feed me

Am i a drug,
People just continue to use me.

Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?

I know
You care about me
10 more people do
Yet I can't get rid
Of this feeling
Of doom

I know
I have you
10 more people too
Yet I can't find a person
To talk to
late at night

feeling to my stomach
I hate lying now

now I'm cursed
I have to keep this lie

it feels so wrong
I don't want to lie anymore

I have kissed boys

Girls

People in between

But lately I have been kissing bottles

Their lips are colder than yours

But slowly I have realized that the pounding headache when I wake is less hurtful than the shattering in my chest

Yet as these toxins rush through my veins

I can't help but miss the tracing of your fingers along my skin

Miss the numbness of the world when you lie with me

But when I wake I remember that a headache is treated with an aspirin

While heartache

Well if you have a cure for Heartache let me know