I want more,
I want less,
I want it all.

"Marry me."
If I could I would,
You have no idea,

So devoted to you,
The single men heckle in their cliques,
But they don't understand,

What this is to me.

“Are you okay?”

Sweetheart, I write poetry
And some kindhearted people said I write it well
…
That can only mean one thing
My mind is an unescapable hell

“Yeah, just tired”

i am not a poet,

nor am i a poem.

i am not a writer,

nor a book.

i am not a painter,

nor a painting.

i am not a sculptor,

nor a sculpture,

i  am not the artist,

nor the muse.

i am an idea,

that exists

only

in your imagination

i feel that i learn a lot with you,
but you don’t learn anything with me.
am i so boring?
am i so unintelligent?
am i so introverted?
am i so exhausting?
am i so dumb?

Pulled happiness towards myself
                                       Held tight
                                       Grips loosen
                                       It sways away

Pushed sadness back
                             Beyond reach
                             Kept pushing
                             It recoiled

       Emotion is best left
           As an untouched pendulum
           Moving freely within my experience

I wake water steeping me,
A sleeping foam of rolling sea.
Each little island long washed,
Day by day, slowly sushed.

The grains of time ever fleeting away,
It ate my island, slow decay.
It is hard what I was.
It was hard to alas.

Now I am in water,
Light so bleak.
It is eating all matter,
Darkness will seek.

I succumbed time of break,
Gone of world, Earth that quake.
I not removed my last eye.
For all, it is lastly I.

Mouth empty,
Feast for entropy.
Lastly sigh,
Of I.

Little bird,
Your cage is not of my making.
Little bird,
I see the weight you carry, silent, unseen.
Little bird,
My hand is open, only if you wish to land.
Little bird,
I promise not to squeeze too tight.
Little bird,
I'd never clip your wings.
Little bird,
I’d never take your sky from you.
Little bird,
Let me build you shelter, not a cage.
Little bird,
I’ll walk beside you, not ahead.
Little bird,
I ask for nothing, only that you know,
Little bird,
You are free, even here with me.

ten years,
too late.

ten years—

and there's
no debate:

i will do
everything

to not be

like you.

i'm no saint,

but i know
when enough
is enough

and to draw
a line,

before it's
too late.

people come
and people go;

and i've come
to terms with
forgiving

and letting
go.

but in the midst of
it all, i hope
to be better

than to
risk it all.

because impressions
are forever,

and

i've learned
to forgive you
and move past it

rather than fall.