Hands fall on paper,
Ink makes love to the nib,
A swooping curl of grace,
The calm charisma of calligraphy.

A letter of love,
Sealed by sweet, soft kisses,
Signed with wishes and dreams,
Left unopened for at least two decades.

Wet tears on parchment,
Words bleed love on paper,
Forced to run long ago,
The brutal callous of calligraphy.

Living love is hard—
when you least expect it,
it sweeps your legs from behind,
leaves you sprawled on the ground,
bleeding out until you die.

There’s no one to save you.

I could say much more,
but I think only those who’ve lived it
know.

You don't need me
but I need you
You don't like me
but I like you

You don't know that
but what if you do
would you like me or not?
would you see me or not?
would you need me or not?

would it make a difference?
would it change your preference?
I guess probably not

i feel so...
out of place here.
its like they forget
my name
and why im even
there.

the thoughts
they just keep on racing,
like they're all competing --
winner gets the reward of
tears flowing.
emotions non-stop.
no runner ups.

and they wont stop.
why wont they stop?

you cannot just walk in and out of my life.
I am not a door.
I am not a robot, so do not treat me as if my feelings don't matter, because I'm human, not anything else.

i'm not her
i'm not good
i'm not perfect
i'm not his
i'm not a good person
i'm not happy
i'm not stable
i'm not anything

staring at a screen
it says ‘bad gateway’
what does it mean?

I don't know
but I've seen this before
that's why I'm in
survival mode
it's gonna be okay
I'll just take the next road
left

writing poems...
in my head

I lost my friends
I still get their messages
I still type out a reply
out of formality if anything

At this point I don't know why I try
when they so carelessly discard my feelings
saying they're too busy to meet up
then sending me pictures of them together
whilst I sit at home alone
not even ten minutes away