Do you ever feel
Like
   you
      might
         be
            falling?
Do you ever think
                            That
                         you
                     won't
                   be
             able
          to
      get
  back
up?
Fight that feeling
A
n
d
And take the
                    st
                    ai
                  ­  rs
                      to the top floor.

I never intended this to be about you
But you fit every poem and prose that I write
My allegory lies within my gestures, stares, and smiles
And I hope you wouldn't read between the lines,
'Cause that would be the end and I'll pay the price.

For I'd rather be an empty letter in your word
Than be a sinner in their eyes.


©kg

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

meet me by the sunset tree
meet me at the lonely sea

meet me now and meet me then
meet me soon and yet again

meet me while the music plays
meet me through the brightest days

meet me with a broken rose
meet me where the water flows

meet me neath a weeping moon
meet me past a tarnished noon

meet me on my lowest tide
meet me even if I lied

meet me when the tale is told
meet me as the wind grows cold

meet me in the sullen chill
meet me if you love me still

stainless steel and skin
do make the worst of friends
the friction
the senses
survive and protect

will love always leave
is light simply a lie
stainless
steel blades
play god and death defy

electric is my mind
my heart is numb and small
senses
just lave
Over walls cold and tall

am i just worth not
the love ; you're unaware.
doesn't
hurt much
i'll go deeper so you care

my mind only filled
with endorphins happy red
pockets
of proof
of life; the raccoon fed

stainless steel and skin
do make the best of friends
buzzing,
living.
the cuts and seams i penned

there are two types of sadness

there’s the kind of sadness
we ignore and
try to get rid of it
by finding new things to do
or we find someone to talk to
by blatantly avoiding any type of conversation
about feeling sad
about having any feelings at all
and then there’s that kind of sadness
that takes over
and it consumes any activity we do
we know it’s there
and there’s no possible way to avoid it
so we feed it exactly what it wants
it craves the sad music
it craves the isolation
it craves the anxiousness
and the sadness comes storming in
it has no manners
here we are calling sadness, an “it”
when all it is
is a feeling
that most people
call home

You would stand in front of the window, naked and raw,
Black tears still stained down your face.
The moon's light doesn't quite frame you the same as it used to.

You think of the days of being illuminated and bright.
Of sunlight dripping off of you as your hands touched
Someone new, someone deserving, someone else.

Nothing since has ever felt as real, as true.
This light has traveled from a quarter-million miles away
To accuse you, cold and pale, cloying to your skin.