i never know
which to write
when i sit down
and write to myself

Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?

cuts breast cancer risks
cuts the risks of heart disease
treats asthma, coffee

Do not pause
for it is not in the spirit of love
to be still for so long.
Just as a river
does not stop in its tracks
for fear of overflow.
Just as the sea's are never still.

Just as the sea's are never still.

Ive been learning to love myself for a year, so why is she deciding to fight back now? We had relief, some calm.
Now the bones are rattling and the screams are crawling up my veins.

She keeps telling me that Im alone
And that its over.

I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold

over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old

behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle

Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.

How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.

Giving up isn’t as hard as you’d think
Because I’ve given up thinking as well.