I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

Roses may be red,
But I'm always blue.
Someone could show me paradise,
And I'll see a grotesque view.

Roses may be red,
But sometimes I'm blue.
I'm aware of the sunlight,
And I'm slightly warmer too.

Roses may be red,
But I'm feeling less blue.
I've met you, extraordinaire,
A palette of colors, anew.

Roses may be red,
But I'm no longer blue.
You brought paradise to me,
Because paradise is you.

Love is
slow
Love is
patient
Love is
not perfect

Love is
warmth
Love is
like a movie
but without the music

Love is
strength
Love is
telling them when their wrong
but never controlling

Love is
breakfast in bed
Love is
crying together
but never making each other cry

Love is
getting that bug out of their hair
Love is
their friends and family
but never keeping them from them

Love is always strong than hate

i've tricked them once again
i made them believe that everything was fine.
******* I'm good,
even after all this time.

i'm too good at lying to myself,
I'm too good at pushing away the pain.
and even tricking myself
into believing I'm okay.

you're telling me to breathe
but my throat keeps closing.
you tell me to sleep,
but every night is darkness without dreams.

how am i supposed to write,
without spilling blood on the page.
but this is my job now,
and i need a decent grade.

like forcing a bird to sing for food,
you're wringing me out.
my mind dripping to the floor,
i can't create beautiful things anymore.

i'm writing everything over again.
repeating
repeating
repeating myself.

what do you want me to say?
that everything will be okay?
you want me to make my own light,
give myself a nicholas sparks ending.  

because now I'm exposed,
I'm standing in front of you all.
and you can practically see the blood
dripping down my wrists.

with the world standing behind me,
its hard to keep my focus.
"make it pretty" she says,
"don't let them see you're already dead."

i can't turn tears to holy water,
or my own blood into wine.
i can't create beauty,
staring Darkness in the eyes.

between tomorrow and yesterday
i lost myself in today