Karla told me to give up art.
You really aren't very good at it, she said,
And suggested I take up drinking full time, instead.

At least with a beer in your hand,
You project a sense of purpose, she said
Even if it's only to empty the glass.

But your poems ramble on forever,
Your short stories always stop in the middle,
Maybe you should combine the two, she suggested
And blew her cigar smoke down the front of my sweater.

We will call them stoems she said and laughed,
And challenged me to a push up contest,
Right there on the dance floor.

I declined, she knew I would,
Then let's dance with our backs to each other, she said,
And defend this art of yours, silly puzzles no one can comprehend.

being with you
felt like
being icarus.

only
if icarus had stayed at the sun
and stared it
in the face.

you were
my sun
but
you burned
my wings off.

and so i plunged
deeply
into space
with my head
on the brink

of explosion.

I have been lying for so long.
I have masked the ugly parts of myself that make me who I am.
Because to write about these things,
would not be as beautiful to read.
I wouldn't be a poet, I'd be psychotic.
Truth is, I am not "poetry".
I am not "romance".
I am just dramatic as ****.
"He" was never mine.
I was a freshman, "he" was a senior.
I wasn't "in love", I was obsessed.
"He" didn't break me, I did.
And I just never got over it.

My deepest sleep and worst nightmares
find myself running and hiding
as I’m searching for the savior of the night.

And still,
there you are,
the hero at the end of the story.

Still, I find myself longing for you to save me.
Still, I hope for an ending with you in it.
Still, I love you.
Still.

But still,
you are not the same.
Still, you have changed.
Still, you are not who I once loved.
Still, you are not you.

And so still,
I will search for you there.
Still, the old you is waiting for me there.
Still, there you will be,
the hero of my dreams.
Still.

It's all just a waste.

she is poetry and romance
this, i know, is true
but does she see poetry like i
in every crevice of you?