you don't exist when
my eyes are open
you don't exist when
my blood's not poisoned
when my soul's at peace
when my gut is full
and when I'm in company

So you exist most of the time
dear muse

If want was water,
I would be drowning, my head under completely
and my oxygen quickly depleting.
If confusion was cold,
My fingers would be numb and I wouldn't even
have a coat to ward off the freezing.
If youth was you,
It would be slipping away by the second,
And I can't get a hold to stop it.
Now,
my air is gone,
I'm shivering to the bone,
and can't keep a hold on.
But, this is only a poem:
I know I'm not suffocating, subzero, or slipping.
But I can't help but feel like the more I write,
the farther I get from reality
and the closer I get to metaphor mortality.

Late night texts
Sleepy eyes
Small smiles
Butterflies

Stolen moments
Held inside
Beating heart
Stupefied

~

Left alone
Tear filled eyes
Chapped lips
Scarred thighs

Empty promises
Cast aside
Broken heart
Terrified

~j.l.

As they kissed for the last time
His eyes betrayed the cruelty of his crime
She was broken beyond repair
His last words, “Take care,”
Locked into her mind they stood
Where even death did no good
And hidden there in that sad place
Is the trace of an angel’s tear as it rolls down her face
The water it stained as it fell
There is where the sad things dwell

my first crush committed suicide.
i remember the hurt at a young age
from chasing him around his living room
begging him for a kiss.
from my young age i knew i wanted him
in my life forever.
through his weaves and gagging
running around the furniture and up the stairs,
losing him sounded foreign then
and having lost him now, still feels the same.
our fathers drank and our mothers giggled
born three months apart
our future planned together
both saying "i do"
uniting us all together.
life flew on by
us both fighting with ourselves
and downing the bottles underneath the bed
loaded and silenced
family portraits painted in red
long life memories all put to rest.
only one made it out alive
but it's hard to breathe
out of us how was it me
and you in a little box
where a diamond ring should be.
my mind keeps wondering
when will i stop chasing you
then my heart replays
every time you turned a corner
you looked over your shoulder
and how you smiled at me.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

I learned
to plant the seeds
of happiness.
There are flowers
blooming
where the scars
used to be.

R.M.

I took the crown off my head
To make myself more approachable
To you
And in doing so
Forgot that I ever owned one