Im the death of a poet.
The muse that puts ink down on paper and the absence of love that dried the pen.
Im forever in the footnotes, the dedications, and after thought of every written word.
I'll take you to the point of ecstasy and push you right off the edge. It's inevitable.

It's been 10 days since you walked this place.
I tell you the colors are a lot less vibrant now.
I tell you the burnt rubber sent clouds to
the exosphere just to reach you.
I tell you that we are all still waiting to wake up
and I tell you that I love you forevermore.
I can feel your arms around me in my weakest moments... like when the rain fell and
didn't wash this away.
Ever since your lungs took your last breath,
i've been desperately trying to breathe
life into your name.
We are beating on our chest just to
keep our hearts beating.
My eyes have been swollen shut yet I still knew the sun continued to rise and fall.
That hurts most of all.

What art my heart torn apart makes when it bleeds over the edges and onto the hands of people who just wanted to touch me.
Greedy fingers and hungry eyes.
I've been devoured visually by souls
who did not care that I bled blue;
they didn't care that I breathe for you.
Long nails raking down my skin, desperately trying to hold onto the truth
that I am an end goal,
but that they are not ready.
They do not Inform me that behind the conversations of a future,
that they would remain dreams,
Broken ones
and that forever is indeed a time
and it is not as long as I thought it would be.
So please, keep your hands off me.

I'm smoking too much, not feeling enough.
Tossing back pills, still giving a ****.
They say so strong so tough,
while i'm praying to the sky above and
using this faith as a crutch.
I'm dripping in blood and
theres no one to trust.
Shoved them all out and turned to dust.
From ashes I continue to rise.
So I wish on bright lines
that i'll fall for the last time.

The smell of a campfire is stuck to the humid air.
I inhale smoke just as thick as the smell
and when I close my eyes,
you're sitting right there with me.
We're around a campfire with good company, smiling faces and dinner on the coals.
I can smell the roast.
If only I was cycling through memories instead of dreams i'd be a bit less bitter.
oh.. what we could've done with more time.
My eyes are closed and i'm sitting in front of the home I dreamed we would build
and its burning
and i'm going down with it.