As much as I loathe my life
Hated it more without you
Pain inside I thought would go
Instead feeling grew

Days had become dark for us
I made the choice to leave
Tried and tried to make it work
You tried to deceive

I couldn't take more lies
Couldn't handle the hurt
Was so tired of being put second
I always put you first

So said goodbye to the greatest thing
Most amazing person I've ever known
For us to find felicity
Even if it meant being alone

It cut deeper than I thought possible
Every morning hated to wake
Pushed on by telling myself
Time would ease the ache

Months passed with no success
Stopped counting each "better" tomorrow
The agony did eventually start to fade
Not the emptiness
Exasperation
Sorrow

I did best to stay away
Not listen to alluring speech
Finally caved in realizing
Peace on own I wouldn't reach

Now you brighten each day
With texts and concerned calls
Every week continue to struggle
Around you the world isn't bad at all

I wish I would have understood
The first moment I held your body near
That my love for you couldn't be stopped
Though I attempted to make it disappear

The stars shine brighter now
Nearly lost love pure and strong
Don't know why I thought I'd be happier without
You in life cause I was so **** wrong

"My drops of tears I'll turn to sparks of fire ."
Shakespeare :
Henry VIII , act II , scene IV


I'm
mixing alcohol
with . . .
my silver tears of fear

While . . .
I'm am
looking back
on all the agony
of my life
whose demise
is now . . .
drawing near

I dream of being Phoenix
with red plumage
and desire
To be consumed
by the tears
I have set on fire

So . . .
let me pour another drink
and
rake the coals of life

Then I'll be
setting my tears
on fire
While waiting
on new life


Song : Set Fire to the Rain
by Adele

I carry you in my heart;
in my head; in my bones.
I would have carried you to the earth's end,
but now, you are simply mulch.

drywall graveyards
tacks stabbed through ghosts
buried and legible and moss-bearing

you never leave flowers
but you still remember; will
even with creasing palms of
papercuts and old printer ink

in a lot of ways you're still sliding across main street
graphite-stained and bleary
surrounded by cymbals
and freezing condensation
and pinpricks in your fingers

in a lot of ways you're still feeding her clementines,
her veins bic-blue and eyes alight
near clear with
spirits realer than you

in every way you're crumpled and jagged on the floor
the swaying kitchen table

you're talking to a fragment,
a figment handing you bottles to
burn your tongue and your throat and wait
for what?

for your self-portrait to dry once and for all;
for footsteps echoing down the stairs;
for long-decayed maple helicopters to activate;

for the dears to fall behind your bed and stay there