i read someone saying "everyone has a happy ending, so where's mine?"
why would you want it to end?

I try to write a poem
A poem of love and happiness
While being surrounded by
Depression and loneliness
Not from the people around me
But the person inside of me

The cold, broken, heart broken fool
The fool whom rateated love
The fool whom spreaded warmth
The fool whom gave out open arms

I try to write this poem
A poem of the man behind the mask Im surrounded by
Depression and loneliness
No one around me to blame
Because of the person inside of me

You're a ticking time bomb with a tight grip on my arm
We sunk down into the deepest end of the ocean
It's only seconds until we blow up
I can't breathe
And your eyes look like they're falling asleep
Two different creatures finding the nothingness at the bottom of the ocean
In the silence of the water, we will perish
And the rest of the world will hear nothing

Hold me when you're breaking, and I'll help you stay together.
Tell me when you're hurting, and I'll grab my tickling feather.
Grab me when you're angry, and I'll whisper away the pain.
Stop me when you're jealous, and my eyes will never stray.
Call me when you're proud, and my smile will keep you humble.
Taunt me when you're hungry, and I'll come right back with doubles.
Kiss me when you're cold, and my breath will warm your heart.
Love me when you're lonely, and our souls will never part.

You've got me under your spell with no intentions to leave.
I'm all yours for the taking, just show me what you need.

Each day you made me stronger,
You made my sessions last a little longer,
You made me feel true greatness,
And it was all me of course, more or less,
When you left my system you took all you were able,
For therapeutic use said the label.

i fell for the quirky guy
with messy hair
& an even messier heart.

we get it, poets. things are like other things.
this is a familiar concept to us all so why do we speak in metaphor all the time?

it is because when we tell you we feel like our insides are on fire,
we feel as though we are a house that is burning down until all that remains is a fragile frame accompanied by a pile of ash,
it is not a metaphor

it's a simile, notice my use of like or as

but it is not a metaphor

when you stick a cigarette between your teeth you do not fail to light it
the thing that does the killing will **** you
and you will let it

when you write down the exact amount of pills you took and the number of days you felt worthless tallied into your stretch marks
there is no metaphor there

my poetry isn't metaphor
it is a direct reflection of honest to god feelings
I have never written a poem not meant literally

we get it, poets. things are like other things.
but that is a simile.
things are not other things.
we do not speak in metaphor.