You.
I know you more than you believe I do, I’m afraid, so what you say has already been affirmed or denied by what I know about you.
I can feel that you’re hurting, but you won’t tell me what’s really going on, I’m not sure if giving up is an option that’s not worth the risk.
I’m afraid that you might hurt yourself, or worse. Is that such a bad thing? You don’t talk, you don’t eat, you don’t cry, you don’t bathe, you don’t think. You’ve nearly convinced me that you’re an addict of some sort, and it scares me.
I talk to you nearly everyday for the next few months to chill you out after rehabs, after your second and third chances, but you relapse severely again and again like you don’t want to quit. I cut you off and you cut your wrists. How can you resist? You resist me, the helper of the haul to you, you block me off as if I’m not wanted. But regardless, I’m here, like it or not.
I love you enough to care. You disappear for days and come back higher than the skyscrapers that I believe you imagine about. But when you come down hard into my arms you find the sensibility to cry at yourself. But it could be for my sake only, but it’s not working, I’m losing sleep over you, your health deteriorating, you’re stealing from me like I’m the enemy, but I’m still the only pillar that your castle has to stand on, and regardless of how hard you push, the weight of my position keeps me glued to you so that you don’t fall any harder.
But you won’t listen to me anymore, you’ve basically fired me from your life, who am I to complain, but then, who am I to comply? I know you want it, but you need me, and so all I can honestly do is pray that you don’t overdose on your pride or anything else long enough to get help…
I’m too late, they’ve found you once more, bruised, beaten and stuck in the clouds of your mind, laughing at nothing and speaking gibberish that even you probably can’t understand. Dying, beaten, hurting, needing, wanting, having. I should’ve been there with you, holding your hand making sure that the harm didn’t go to you. But they couldn’t give you back to me, they couldn’t help you out of the stupor that you had stooped to. And I couldn’t help either. It was time to let you go, permanently, I’m afraid. Why did you have to go? Why did you have to give into the desire for it? You knew it would only hurt you, why did you do it to yourself, to me?
The thunder claps in my ear as I cry at the grave of the loved one I used to know. Rains pour on me, winds rage, emotions flair. You’ve been in the ground for under two days and I already miss you. I miss everything about you… even your habit. I know what it does, but you’re gone, what do I have to lose?

My attitude has changed, my paradigm of the world has been tainted with the taste of sorrow and the funk of death. I become a phantom in skin, the angel of demons or the demon of angels, regardless, I feel alone and unwanted. And thus I follow you once more, thinking of you with syringes around me, life ebbing and waning, eyes shutting but slowly opening revealing an area of the city that I had never traveled to, a place in my domain that was foreign. I wanted to leave, but go where? And thus, with the face of you in my view and the thought of your voice in my ears, I slip down the road less traveled, following your footsteps once more.
Love lost, heart faded, alone in his own creation. The god has fallen, the wrong path has been taken…

Shocks of pain haven’t the slightest effect on me, You’re the cure to the pains I’ve felt. You’re the one who clears my mind like the backspace clears Microsoft pages. Simple as you are, you solve complexities that the common world can’t handle.
I was lonely once, I had a gap in my chest that wasn’t filled easy, in fact, no mortal could fill it. Only you could, a queen, a goddess I had called you. And you didn’t disappoint, you held out untl the end of the war of hearts, and I’m in love with you for it.
Yet we don’t move, we stay in the same position as we always have, lovers, loves. When can we move on?
I was thinking marriage, you were thinking Quickie. I was thinking whole-hearted love, you were thinking child-like intimacy. But We’ve met at a new point, the point that I knew was an inevitable circumstantial element.
Destruction.
Look at what you’ve turned me into , look at my words and imagine the heat behind them. Look into the lines of my words and imagine them as my eyes. They’re filled with the tears of the lies you had put into my ears. The hopes that you hyped me up to. The stories that you concocted to blind me from your true self.
You were love.
That emotion that I had blindly chased after in hopes that I’d achieve it.  You lied. You told me all I wanted to hear in exchange for me to give my life to you, the emotion that has inspired many a war.
I tried to refuse you, for I hadn’t felt you much. I just wanted to feel special to someone, special to anything other than myself, and you couldn’t do that for me. You didn’t keep your promise, in fact, you destroyed my faith in the world.
Poem after poem I wrote about it, about you, Yet you still disperse with every setup you create, stop toying with me, Fight like you’re supposed to . Stop throwing sand and running, you hurt only yourself.
My soul is crushed, heart stomped on by the boots of thousands, tears absorbed by the thirsty lips of millions, skin digested by the hunger of those now sated. I did this for you, and I do it no more.
No more shall I spend my time, wallowing, wonting to your abusive nature. I spend more time thinking of ou than I do thinking of my own life. You bring my soul to an ache, my eyes to an overflow, my head to a crippling pain and my body to the ground, toppling like a tower struck from the bottom.
Now do you feel my pain? Do you see the internal struggle you’ve caused me? Do you feel the emotion in the mere words I utter? Do you gaze at the water raining over the fire in my eyes? Do you see the physical decay of my form? The form that was set up for love and loving? I’m hurting, I can’t stress that to you enough. My body’s failing me, I’m dying inside and out, and the cause, I think you know now, is You…
Yours truly,

   A wrecked and ravaged spirit.

Sugar is sweet by itself, but even more so when mixed with flavors.
She is the flavor, one I’ve never savored before, one that’s intriguing to me to a point of shear attracted interest, and I believe she knows it. She can hear the interest, can feel the heat of my words, and I feel hers as well.
Heavy conversation? I think not, It’s a natural for us both, whether or not we realize. For we are both expressers, both professing emotion like analysts.
Poets
The Irony of it is that she’s better, but I don’t mind, we are after all different professions of the same thing.
Sweet like syrup, shy like mockingbirds, hesitant as kittens, flow like the winds that blow the currents of the ocean, and as vibrant as a child high on fructose.
Feminine intuition should tell her she’s entering dangerously close territory, but she powers on through it regardless, perhaps with ruby red blushed cheeks, perhaps with a whole-hearted smile, perhaps not. But she has taken it, she has taken my eyes off of the situations, the standards, and placed them squarely on  her.
I haven’t felt the buzz in a long time, haven’t felt the attraction in mere moments, yet they have both been reawakened by her.  What’s going on in my head? Is there something that I’m missing? Indeed, It’s her.
A poet in every sense of the word, and a beautiful fortune more so. Her name is synonymous with soul, her eyes are only described as deepening pools of eternity, smile described as Insta-ready, but is that all? Whoever mentioned it was unjust to her. For her smile speaks more than she. It tells of trial and error, love and lost and perhaps more.
She has lost much, but what she has lost shall be regained somehow, and I pray I’m around to see her dreams be achieved singlehandedly by her,  girl wonder. Taken more stress than the human body should bare and still walking through the hell with clenched fists and a strong gait.
I can feel her presence, sense her sadnesses, why cry? No need for tears of sorrow for you one day, no need for fears or upsetments. I know she knows who she is, and I hope these words touch her, for nothing else shall harm her, nothing shall infiltrate her innocence and take advantage, not with the help of my will and strength, and I give it to her now for her well-being and protection.
I don’t know her as much as I’d like, but perhaps I might, perhaps I might understand her complexities for good and allow them to stick close to me in whatever form of intimatic energy we find, whether friendly or deeper.
A speaker is simply an amplifier for sounds, a stronger voice for a weaker one.  I have been told that I’m the speaker, the strong voice in a world of weak voices, but I don’t see how. She is her own speaker, her own voice may rise louder and stronger than many that have been tried before her, and yet she still hurts. If I could, I’d take the pains away, protect her from what I believe is hurting her. But what if It’s not what I think? What if I’m merely protecting her from what I figured was hurting her and it wasn’t. What if I only end up messing up again? It’s not my intention to ruin the rose by picking it, but to let it linger in the **** patch would allow it to disappear from me.

Normal
The word pertaining to the behavior of the majority of the masses, yet I refuse the title like unmixed blood cells, pushing the average in me back until I’m taken by my higher self, my true form.
But you wouldn’t know much about that. You can’t wait to get home to watch TV or play your video games.
It’s normal.
Higher
Whether through drugs or levitation, getting high is easy. However, the average cannot reach this level, they cannot display this power. Only we can, us being the lyrical miracles that the world has once craved and the world being those around us that give us our inspirations.
Higher.
And I guess I’m a space shuttle. Yet I have felt no high in chemicals, no uplifting in elevators, just the heightening fuel that ignites in my brain. Yet some can’t take the heat of a burning mind filled with questions. But can you?
We are poems, poetry, poetic expressions. But it’s a dual edged blade of which we have all found. We’re all special, from A.D.D to suicidal, we have the experience to write tragedy. From love to loss we have the reason to write about romance. Love, fear, heroics, sadness, strength, all poetic expressions to us.
We are poets
The people who everyone looks at for supporting. Some of us are tough, some of us are pushovers, and some of us are pacifistic. Yet the reality of our gifts open up a new world for us.
We are poems
Our writings speak to our souls, that’s one more connection from our brains to our hearts and the entities beyond. I write about it and you understand where I come, my point of view. My pain, your inquiry, yet to hear it being read is poetic justice to our emotions.
We are communications
No, I don’t mean through phones or emails. I’m talking through spirit. You see a poet down, you help, period, as we are one and the same in heart.  A symbol of independence to those who forget the meaning of the word. But we’re a community and a family, so I love you like a brother or a sister because of the natural familiarity between us.
We are poetic.
Our lives are filled with instances where we simply need to express. Oh, the sweet and sour irony. Our day to day experiences speak for our poetic natures. Whether jamming to Taylor Swift or Tracy Chapman or Migos or even Luke Bryan, musics tell our moods and words tell our stories, our tales, our liveliness and oneness with our selves.
Poetic beings are we, and we are
Poetic

Insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results, right? So what should I call it if I do this one more time and get the different answers? Someone forgot to factor in the unpredictability rate of females.
But I didn't.
I recognize how you do, what you do, so please don't underestimate the things done to or by any of us.
We are the angels of heaven, the gods of rome, the royals of England. Shall I go on? It seems needless if you get the points I'm making.
SO to start off, how are you today? Sure, I see you everyday, but that's the point. I wanna give you your deserved space, so when I stay at my table as you walk passed, don't think I'm ignoring you, I'm just trying to give you the space you are due, for I want to preserve this romance like strawberries in the winter.We
are what you seek, but I believe you seek more. WHat is it? Please, be straight with me, my heart cannot bare another user nor another usery. DO you see what I see when we lock eyes in class? Do you understand the concept of MY love? For my love, regardless of long or short, is different in comparison.
I know I've spit this before, I know you're tired of the same words to describe a different game. This isn't me anymore, it's us. This isn't courtship anymore, it's love. Actual love, I've never felt it before, never had it's taste on my tongue nor it's thought in my head.
But you've put it there. The chance for a real relationship!!! Am I really ready? Are you? then get ready, get set, let's go!!!!!!! The race is on, now I realize what the true effect you have on me is.
Now I can tell you how much I love you and how much I care for you, even if it's just a telepathic wish, you will feel the presence of it in  your forethought.
You make me want to overdose on love music, chillin on the bed in complete darkness, just marinating on the words and anylising there meanings, yes you, my heart and soul, sold to me by an unlikely vender, your soul.
So we traded, bartered actually. your heart for mine, a likely trade. But what are the expected drawbacks? No, I'm no skeptic, but I am real, so what are the real intentions of so magnificent a spirit?
I will be yours, for you are mine, but don't hurt me, please. I stay on my knees in prayer of an unbroken heart, yet so often it is. Alas, you are the one, so will my heart be safe? So often I asked that, so often it was answered with the same words, same attitude, yet at first chance they pulverised me as if I were a stone on a stone crusher, so all I ask is for you not to do that to me, my love.

Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, it's all on me. Why try to fool me again? My heart's already withering...