Knowing is always better than not knowing.
                                                        ­                                               Every
                                                           ­                                                      single
                                                          ­                                                                 time.

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                                                 ok Spring let's ****




























































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.

Sometimes, I pretend
That I’m perfection.

I know a lot [little]
About what perfection is,
Because I know [think]
That I [may never] have
Seen it before,
But I think [pretend]
That when [if] I see it,
I’ll know.

[Maybe.]

It's all a word game
He said she said as it were
But this time...
     It's only a she said.
Filled with lies and misdeeds
                 Top story of the town.
It's all a word game
To hide the truth
Destroy someone's reputation
                                                the truth doesn't matter
Not as juicy
                   as rich to talk about.
I've said sorry
Never meant to hurt you
     cause you pain.
I can't keep being nice
                          when pain is all you give back to me.
One day hopefully you can move past what happened
Maybe...
               hopefully.

this morning
as i groggily rolled onto my back
and felt the weight of the blanket draped across my body
i briefly thought you were lying atop me
my face buried in your shoulder
my lips gently pressing against your neck
and then quickly gravitating downwards
repeatedly kissing the spot where your neck and shoulder meet
so as to make you shiver against me
and smile brighter than the morning sun
snuggling against me more
so that i could wrap my arms and lift my legs around you
both of us sleepy but bathed in the morning light

and so i laid there
for two minutes past my alarm
lost in the everlasting euphoria that just the thought of you can bring
wishing that maybe
just maybe
i was only dreaming that you weren't there

I tried to smudge your name out of the
playbill of my life, but I couldn't. Somehow,
I'd convinced everyone around me, and even myself,
at some points, that you were nothing but a mere what-if

in my life of absolutes, and I didn't miss you.
Of course, day in and day out, words and lines for unwritten poems
would submerge my thoughts deep in murky, unfiltered tubs of
darkness, and I'd find myself haunted by your existence.

I tried to get over you, but I'm a poet, and the fact
of the matter is that poets don't get over much of anything. So
I'm sorry for this facade that I've so grudgingly constructed,
but I've never been too good at saying goodbye...

..or sorry, for that matter.

There are some things that time cannot forget,
Nor Life’s long course erase, but still remain
Without a doubt.  We have no choice, and yet
We fain would lose remembrance of the pain

And sorrow that accompany that thought.
I once rejoiced in knowledge and the fact
That better memory could not be bought,
But now I mourn it, for I cannot act

Upon the feelings I have known so long.
Yet I cannot forget what I still feel,
Nor even come to think that it is wrong.
The ache remains—my heart will never heal.

If only mind could come to realize
What heart knows: unreturned love never dies.