I remember looking at a bewildering little flower.
Just off the sidewalk it gently danced in the breeze.
I stood totally engrossed in this strange little being.
God wanted me to see this, to bask in its bewitching allure.
I watched it for a few more minutes in serenity.
As I readied to leave, I look to make sure no one could see.
I kicked the flower from its home,
I watched as it danced one last melancholic tune.
Fluttering to the earth it truly looked as if it were dying.
It landed with a plump sort of umph.
I felt a tear trickled out and make its way down.
I stared at the corpse of the dancing plant.
The words that came out of my mouth were selfish.
"You touched my soul, If I let you touch another I'd die.
I ended you so those moments would be fleeting and mean so much more. "
After I said her eulogy I walked away,
Tears were shed but I never looked back.

Still broken down and reeling.
I saw her in crowded room.
She made me nervous,
till I caught my breath.

Every love poem in the past year,
owe a special kind of thanks to her,
To the one of unmatched beauty.
Sultry eyed with a cute gleam of a smile.

She complimented me, then said I was "intimidating".
Honestly that honesty surprised me.
I am me, Mr. Nice-Guy finishing last.
being five nine and a half never inspired fear before.

Drunk at a party, I wouldn't hit on her.
So many people do that with their liquid courage.
That would be an insult to her.
So I did the hardest thing to do, Nothing.

This isn't poetry, this isn't a love story.
This is a tragedy that burns rather slowly.
Though as I wait, I hope that to be a lie.

Some one told me I am a "Love Poet".
That what I write about greatly is that emotion.
I remember looking at him and saying,
"I write about the magic of sad little tragedies".
I don't write, I strip away the world and leave the words.

Something vexing about these people who "Know" me.
They look at me as if I were a wounded beast.
Pained by heartache and full of anger.
Truthfully, all I am is waiting.

Phrases come to mind when I think out loud.
My mother fears that all I do is talk to myself.
She doesn't believe when I say, "I am making a poem".

I guess I replaced my frilly phrases for honesty,
This... is this still poetry?

Maybe I've fallen too far in my own mind.

I went to jail once,
I learned a lonely kind of pain.
Staring at a wall, utterly helpless.
Got out and
fell asleep on my best friend's couch.
Spent the next day pretty Ok.

I don't remember that night,
the night 5 guys jumped me.
I don't know what I said.
No one told me why they did it.
I remember crying and smelling like blood.
I remember EMT's looking at me.
I was watching a different life from behind my eyes.

I spent that next day laying by the lake.
No phone and no ride home.
a black eye in place of memories.
Everything hurt,
Falling asleep in the back of that truck.

Next day, I woke up a little better.
I drove the six hours home.
Bought my own birthday cake.
Told my mom,
"I got too reckless at boxing practice".
I pray she believed me.

This was my lost weekend.

Drunk driving in bumper cars
Singing sad songs worth singing.
Standing straight in a blurry world.
Making poetry in the snow with bare feet.
Wide awake turns to talking in your sleep.
Eyes turn to worn out streets.
I'm Bob Dylan with this broken cigarette.
Tomorrow morning is thunder with no regrets.

They told me to be subtle, so I left.
Drug my feet, stumbling down the street.
Raised a glass to the stars for a wonderful night.
Woke up drunk on the train tracks.
Walking east, chasing the only star in the sky.
Fell asleep in the comfort of a stranger's house.
Don't remember how, but left before they found me.
Woke up with the adventures of last night chasing me.
Crawled more than I walked, heading to a friends.
Rung the bell, fell asleep in the cold light of midday.
I took a rest, looked back and remembered nothing.

If I held my heart on a string, I'd sink to the bottom of the sea.
The closest I'll come to heaven is thinking of letting go.

I can't help the moments where I felt like I was alive.
They drift away in the sad brightness of yesterday.

My heart looks like lightning that never lets go.
My face carries the rain like the soil for dried up tears.

The future is burning every second and becoming the ash of yesterday.
I'm going to lay in this pile of ***** smoke until I drown.