You made a poet fall in love with you
And expected her not to write sonnets about your eyes
Haikus about the way you kissed her in the moonlight
Expected the fire in her heart not to inspire couplets
You made a poet fall in love with you, and when you left
Expected her not to write pages about the ache in her chest
Write a soliloquy dedicated to her tears
Expected her not to feel every gut wrenching moment of the pen hitting paper like your words hit her in the most vulnerable places of her mind.
You made a poet fall in love with you, and you expected her to be silent.
That is no fault of hers.

Respect for everyone on here who acts so sweet,
Little acts of kindness everywhere,
Intelligent poetry and clever comments,
Supportive people and sometimes a kind private message.
Being on here restores my faith in humanity.
The people on here are beautiful, all in their own way.
Never I will say without flaws, we are all humans here.
No, we aren't without flaws, that us the best part,  we accept each others flaws.
Respect for everyone here who votes on my poetry.
I am happy with people like you.
And the nice comments on here, on my works and on the works of others, I am proud to be part of this community.
And to anyone who send me kind private messages, you are the best.
Respect for everyone on here, first of all for being human beings.
Secondly because you being so wonderful.
Respect and thank you

Today I woke up
and you were still in my bed.
Blue walls against purple hair
trying to force themselves
into being complimentary.
I don't understand how
"non-monogamy" works
but I've always hated contradictions
and the way I buy flowers just to watch them die.
I should've learned by now
that people fly away
and birds leave in the morning
and I can't keep losing myself
in the palms of another person
like I'm praying for a baptism
or a cup of coffee.

----

Sunday mornings should exist in the thesaurus
under chiaroscuro
or broken glass
or the shedding of the uterine lining, see:
"letting go of dead things".
When you left, you took your purple with you.
Brooklyn got off her knees and got on with the day.
I laid in bed and watched the pigeons on my windowsill
mistaking the blue walls for sky.

When someone goes missing from your life, the clock slows to some kind of impossible speed where you're sure no time is actually passing at all.
Somehow, painfully and miraculously, it's been six days. But, still, you feel they've been gone a million years.
And you would give anything if they could just be here in this, any, and every moment with you.
You're craving them like they were a drug and now you're washed out, you can try to have a good time with anyone else but your best times are to be had roughly 850 miles away, or in the future, or five nights ago.

I want the unknown
The mysterious adventure
All the unexplained feelings
And the untitled relationship

I want to not know what we'll do
Not know everything about you
But just enough to actually know you

So take me
To a place unknown to me
Make me feel feelings I've never felt
And experience life beyond normal