Paper filled with words
not enough to contain
all this emotions,
all this pain.
This pen, with ink
not black enough to paint
All these thoughts.
Poetry,
So shallow
not deep enough to hold
the vastitude
of what I wish I could've told.

If i could,
I'll replace these words with my voice,
Ink with my blood,
this poem with my body
To reach you till it aches
to forgive you, caress you
even if it breaks,
just allow me a chance
to fix our mistakes.

Trust is an ephemeral thing
built upon facades oh so feeble
and ever-changing people

Trust is a fragile thing
put upon capricious beliefs
and ever-shifting feelings.

/əs/
pronoun

:broken embers
waning from the fire
it used to be.

forgive my propensity
to write incessantly
'bout this woman dear to me
for I just cannot resist
her essence that subsists,
that encompasses my entirety
my unconscious
it compels me
to write her, a poetry.