A love that hurts
A love that aches
A love that swells with dreams and plans
An end unknown, but hearts eternally bound
Rolling hills
Summer breeze
A love so deep it hurts to leave
Freedom in your eyes
Freedom in your speech
Freedom in our hearts and bonds unbreached

I feel what I want people to see
But the gift to create is no longer in me
Purpose pounds at my jailed heart
But yet to escape is passion filled art

I don't write poetry anymore
I was lying on my bed lost in my thoughts and I realized I don't write poetry anymore
I used to write so much that my fingers would be sore
and that my words would almost become a bore
but now I don't write poetry anymore.

At some point in the last two years I stopped writing
blame life, blame time
blame the fact that maybe I forgot how to rhyme
Okay, I didn't forget how to rhyme but maybe I forgot to be passionate.
I don't write poetry anymore

Words and thoughts and ideas used to pop into my head
and I could not keep my fingers on the keyboard as they fled
fled from my head
fled to the page
whether fueled by passion or by rage
I had things to say and words I wanted heard
and now it seems so absurd
I have no ideas, no thoughts come to mind
I know poetry takes time
but
I don't have much time
things to do and people to see
the world seems to expect so much out of me
two years have passed and I almost forgot this task
task of passion and of heart
task I had fallen in love with from the start
words mean so much and I love to write
I guess that is why I am here tonight

I had this thought and it shook me to my core
this hobby I used to adore
time I used to feel I had a purpose for
but now my fingers have forgotten how to soar
my thoughts and ideas are poor
I guess that's why
I don't write poetry anymore

they leave
and act like it never happened
they come back
and act like they never left




ghosts

If an overdose
On my medication
Can **** me…
Maybe, just maybe
Its nothing
But an assisted attempt
Of suicide from
My own doctor
For in the end
Death is nothing
But a side affect
Of these so called pills
That are slowly
And very eagerly trying
To **** me.

Tying worries into
             circles of string.

Loops of eternity,
        coalescing worries.

For which I hung upon,
           every knot was silent.

i have dreams. i have a lot of dreams. i have things i want to achieve and goals i've worked my whole life towards. and i've done a pretty okay job of achieving a lot of things i put my mind to and my heart in. but when i'm standing up there on stage i look out into a crowd of strangers. i search for familiarity but i'm met with faces that i don't recognize, hands that come together to clap for me but hearts that are cold. there is no joy when there is no joy shared. there is no success if there is no success shared. i search the crowds and peer down from the mountain but you are not there. i traveled years to reach here but lost my companions on the way. they say it is lonely on the top, they forget to tell you that it is lonelier on the way down. there is no going back.