I'll hold you in my heart
Until I can hold you in my arms
I'll cling to every word you say
And wish you weren't so far away

I'll kiss you softly whenever I can
Because I don't know when I will again
And who cares what the world thinks of us
When I think the world of you

So yes, perhaps distance is a drag
And yes, people can be too
But love of mine please give it some time
Because in time I'll be with you

lately i've been gathering my feelings
and have been trying to put them into my poetry
but they don't exactly come out how i want them to

i have words in my mind
but as they process through to my fingers
i, all of a sudden, turn numb
as if the words have frozen in my veins

i wouldn't say i'm depressed
more like a little unsatisfied with the things that have been happening lately
or the things that haven't been happening

and everyone says to stay happy
but it's easy to say that
when you're not the one overthinking every night;
it's easy to say that because you're happy with your own life

but of course i'm not upset that you're happy
for all i know, you probably deserve to be
i'm just sick and tired of hearing that i should lighten up
from people who aren't constantly dodging the darkness
from people who aren't battling between what they want, have and need
and most of all, from people who think they know
exactly what i'm feeling
when they really have no idea

*a

The problem with people like you and me—the ones that don’t see each other for an innumerable amount if time and yet manage to pick up right where we left off as if time had been a hazy dream—is that we only feel that wondrous surge when we are connected and it disappears when we are apart, never to think of the other again because deep down we both know we will see each other again but, in this unpredictable world, that will not always be true.

Newports
My body feigns for the nicotine,
that 30 seconds of ecstasy.  
This psychological need,
the false hope that the stress I feel
would disappear in the smoke I release that's been trapped in my chest
pressing for a way out.
But when its over its over.
Too bad life isn't like a cig.

If her smile were a disease,
I'd gladly infect myself.

You can’t always **** me goodbye.
A way with your words and a way with your hands.
It was always easy to get you into bed,
  I knew I should’ve took that for a sign.
We’ve got no strings, no guarantees
  only our zipped lips that take the change we put in our pockets.
We could talk forever but I’ll always have to look up
and you will always have to look down.
Always and forever you are my ringing circle,
my fatal sun.

A barren home,
but not of things,
where silence wanders
curiously
down the empty halls.
"Who's there?"
She stands to peek
through door ajar
at the dust  ::BOOM::
on the floor.  ::BOOM::

Nothing's stirred
and all's in place
and all is still
but subject’s face:
fieldstone hues
and wrinkles too.
A desol't eve
in fickle blue,
she’s marching dusk
with throated heart.

Purpled cirri
and pinholes white
high above her
stalwart ceiling.
Shunted thought.
Listless thunder.
Turn on heel
to pinioned sleep;
a reeling sanct,
an effete lover.