A brokenness is in us
Like a window
Never closed;
Drafty and meddlesome
When it rains,
But at least the sun
Always finds its way in
And least we remember
That we are more
Than our flaws -
We are also the light
That shines through them.

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)

From floating adrift in a salt lake
To riding alone into the sunset  

Every corner of this gruesome world reminds me of you, I know you are not mine and you'll never be.

And maybe its time, I end this lonesome charade and bury my broken heart.

It's easy for you to forget me
Wish I could say the same
Your memory stalks me like a ghost
Haunted by your name

I just want it to end.

The hopelessness, the fear,
the constant critic in my head:
I've lived with them all for too long.

All I've ever known is this war, this endless battle.
There's nothing wrong with wanting it to end.
To wish that it didn't is cruel.

But why can't the best solution be the simplest?
Why do I have to keep fighting?

At times it's deafening,
and I'm so exhausted.

Why can't I just lay down in no man's land
and let this battle fall silent around me?

Why can't that be the end?

Because... I'll never know what's possible.

I’m lost in you
yet I’m found in you.
I travel the road to nowhere
using a detailed map.

I make assumptions
yet have no hint.
I reach, I grab
yet nothings there.

She talks of love
my ears don’t hear.
She moves in close
yet no ones here.

My mind goes blank
yet fills with fear.
Is all an illusion?
Is someone near?

What can I know?
Where can I go?
I drown in the flow.
My end is now.

Death is my fate.
I realize too late,
that love was the key,
only death sets me free.

She gives the gift of love,
From where all poetry springs,
And of life,
The joy and the dispair,
That it brings.

The eternal essence of her,
This beautiful paradox,
Pretty flower,
That on a whim,
Could either crush or empower,
The fragile essence,
Of him.