We're creating poetry with our mouths

The words our tongues and the moisture

that flows with passion.

We're creating poetry with our bodies

The ink our desires and each fantasy

that runs through our minds.

We're creating poetry with our fingers

The sentences our necks and hair

that we desperately try to hold onto.

We're creating poetry with our eyes

The stanzas our breaks for breaths and 

the way you look in the moonlight.

The cup of coffee sits still on the table

the dark liquid boiling, bubbling

the steam suffocating; filling my lungs.

My hand around its neck;

my nose inhaling the toxicity.

my mouth falling from the sky;

drowning in the ocean.

Dark liquid surrounds my mind;

i have lost it.

My fingers grazing the magma,

an unfazed gaze on the wall

where the sun twirls.

Slowly sinking in the ground,

a late morning; early afternoon.

The cup of coffee sits still on the table

the light liquid freezing, static

the steam condensed; watered-down foam.

I long for my skin to purple and blue;

I want every inch of flesh to be cold.

Sometimes blood covers my arms, like a tattoo.

I'm unsure what I'm feeling these days,

It's anything but normal,

because I feel as light as feather.

I wish everything would just stop;

every single thought that invades my lonely mind left.

Right now it seems like my body just dropped.

But how do I pick myself from the ground,

when the silence is so ******* loud;

is what I'm hearing real, or is my brain just making its own sounds?

I find it hard to find satisfaction,

so I've been doing these things,

Just to cause a reaction.

Lately I haven't been able to tell if I'm awake,

but I find the less I show of myself,

the harder it is for me to break.

I lay on the cold floor trying to find sleep,

yet I stay up all night,

I tried to learn to swim, and now I'm far too deep.

why is it everyvtime i find something good

i just push it away and think of what if and what i could.

lately i've been trying to put my feet in the sand

and enjoy the salty breeze that comes from our land.

i left myself cold and left the bottles empty

shattered on the ground; no chance of remedy.

i don't know how people say they've traveled into the sea

because even the calmest waves can become a monstrosity.

i'm sitting here wondering how the day went so fast

was it the way the sun danced or the how i dwindled with the past

because everything good never even lasts

and so i'm writing you this letter, alas

i never meant to hurt you or make you feel used

I just didn't want to be the person that abused

i never meant to make you feel less wanted

but i took each of our seconds for granted.

because beauty is pain, and not just the looks.

what i mean is each memory does not stay in the books.

our happiness fades in an ever growing haze

One that's bitter, that dims, that grays.

and no matter how much we try to keep it in store

there's always that fog waiting at the door

If my love for you is a lie,

I am prepared to lie until the end of time

You ask for love but hate yourself

You anger when I try to help

You say you love me and I love you too,

Yet you call me a liar when I show you truth

An act of kindness you call a ruse,

yet you cannot quit yourself abuse



maybe

I should learn to love myself.

you were the morning's sun rising

with such passion and confidence,

but every night you would be undone

behind your lonely picket fence

I know what that feels like now

the feeling of everything getting taken

away your light, your love, your dreams under the plow

because now you don't dance you just sway

and throughout the air there is an shallow murmur

it fills the trees the ocean the wind

and at night you walk out of each day like it's the end

but instead of turning a page in your book

you're erasing your words and redoing their look

over and over and over again

the darkness chains you down, sure

but the light is what pulls you in