"why are you writing
poems and prose?"
asked a guy out of nowhere
while staring at my pen

"to breathe."
I answered with a smile

for writing lets me indulge
with metaphors and similes

it is my escape
the key toward my fantasies

Maybe something I don't know about happened in the past.

Perhaps someone took away my heart.

Or is it just me?
Because everyone I meet makes me feel like I'm just so hard to love.

And now...they find it odd, that I like it so much in the dark.

You loved me like they do in the movies.
Perhaps thats the reason why it ended.

...you will forget that you forgot. Then tears start to fall.

I have myself to blame.
Every "stop sign" I knocked down is a witness.

I had to stop.

Because what else
is left to give,

when you
give it all you got?