I do not think that people
will ever understand
the mind of poetry,
to leave these words behind
and hoping that someday
the steps I walked on by
will catch me by the hand
be my memory,
be my sanity,

We do not fight monsters
we fight illusions
that are much better
than this reality
where we are stronger,
wiser, richer, and full.

if there exists,
God, please
help me,
I might be losing
this battle.

My periods turn to semicolons
My suicide notes to poetry
My goodbyes became hellos
The blades turn to sunflowers
And the bullets, a rose
My heart still is broken
But the pieces have been found
Death isn’t for me anymore
What is, in the here and now
I still don’t feel enough
But I am alive
And that’s enough to say
Today is not the day I die.

And I, my person
Will never stop singing
poetry about you.
You are my Her, Red
the passion
the stroke of my pen
the ink to my veins
And I knew no art
but I  persevered
to draw your everything
in my head, my being
so when I close  my eyes
you are my dream
and I wake up again
because you are my present.

i want to talk about you
to everyone i know
i want to shut my mouth
and keep you to myself
my heart flares up
explodes with thoughts of you
and i can't catch the words
and i can't catch my breath