Let my thoughts flow onto this paper. The pen is my surgical knife, the ink is my blood. I put everything i have into every letter and word this is my true love.

These lines on this paper are my addiction i cant stop at just one. Every exclamation point is like an earthquake or someone screaming in your face!

Every question mark is like turning down a one way road and ending up in the wrong place. Some sentences are written in code. Just leave me with this pen and paper and let me get in my zone..

I wrote a poem for her today.... No no no, thats no good way to start it.
"You are my heart beat and i couldn't live without it." Nope thats no good either.

I just want to please her.. Even my best attempt to meet her wouldn't be enough to see her. I crumbled it up and threw it away, I erased it all, all the words I couldn't say.

Maybe writing a poem would be the way. A crumbled up piece of paper, and all that is left on it to say "I wrote you a poem today"

3:37AM
Thats the time it is when im woken up by my dogs growling and a faint sound of screaming and yelling.

I rub my eyes and sit awake. I hear the fighting of the couple next door. The first time i heard them fight, i thought to myself "its none of my business".

The third time, i made up the story in my mind that "maybe they're going through some tuff times."

The fifth time i think "Maybe they had too much to drink". I started to lose count now...

Started to lose count of the number of smacks i heard. Lost count of how many sorries were said. Lost count of how many times "You worthless ****, I don't know why i put up with your ****!" was said.

4:02AM and it is quiet again. I replay in my head what i can do... Call the cops so she will lie to protect him? Get myself involved in something that is none of my business?

It is like water in my ears, fighting to get it out because it hurts when its there.

4:41AM I say a "sorry" under my breath, hoping whispers can travel like water and crash their door down.

7:23AM I walk out to my car, to see both of them smiling...

If I told you I loved you today it would mean nothing tomorrow.

Blowing the dust off of old poems, some that were never finished because who wants to listen to love soaked poetry?

Wringing out my thoughts onto paper for someone to read them. Making sure they mean something so someone can feel them.

The world is made up of poetry. Some get the chance to hear it and some have the chance to write it.

Only the lucky ones can feel it. So drift away in my words and hold them tight.

Sit alone and read them at night. Fall into my words and land in my thoughts.

One thing is for sure, we all die. But our words and poetry have a chance to live on.

emotions scattered on a page;
manipulating letters to form
feelings.
in a world with so much to give,
all I could offer were words.

a beautiful soul like yours
deserves endless compassion.

love is honest.
love is kind.
love is patient.
love is everything I am not.

you've crept and crawled
into the deepest cavity
of my heart.
a baby bird nestled in
the comfort of their home.

words that flow like
freshwater down a stream
are all I could offer.
as I tried to be
the mama bird nestling
and caring, I realized I'd
only let you down.

many nights I lay awake,
with the trials and tribulations
fencing in my head.

you saw a beauty in me
I had lost sight of myself.
I saw a beauty in you
You never realized existed.

you are flawless.
a beautiful swan
resting and gliding
upon crystal clear water
that is life.

in every such way
you represent perfection.
a masterpiece discovered
by an unknown artist who is me.

you are fire;
sparks sparkling and
embers flashing.
mesmerizing every
gazer who glimpses.

you are marvelous and
you are radiant.

******* reminds me I have soul
perhaps you find the subject rather droll
relief and release is the hedonist key
seeking one's own pleasure will set you free,
opening that box of supreme delights
takes me to such lofty heights
again and again I seek its embrace
an immortal drug the adrenaline race
please do not sit and condemn me with woe
when release from this pain simply makes it so.

Sometimes I think I'll never stop missing you
until the air around me is no longer mine to breathe.

Your birthday was last week.
I called but the line was dead, the number disconnected.
Should have been expected,
you simply cannot drag these things out forever.

I wanted to hear your voice, that's all.
You didn't leave me a whole lot to remember you by,
other than a couple of memories
but with winter nearing those are starting to wither.

If only you had given me a warning,
a shot at making life work without you,
it would have been much fairer, don't you think?

You could have pushed a little harder,
you were busy doing it anyway.
If you could do it all over again, would you still go
even knowing of all the broken hearts
you'd be leaving behind?