I never know what say  

a memory of longing
is painful as it keeps

decaying in my chest

putting my love on paper
doesn't take it away
it amplifies the sting
trying to move on

infecting the open cavity of my being

you read my words like you understand
but I'm lost in a memory of what would have been

trying to collect shattered pieces of my own self

emptied and dancing whisked into the shadows
like the end of a dream

feverishly waking up because my feelings weren't received

give them but don't get them
like as if I sent a letter of longing

never in return

How to become a poet:
Let someone rip your soul apart.
And in the need of mending ,
You will replace it with words.

'eventually'
came too soon.
And while
he knew the inevitable,
he never expected
he'd fade away
that quickly.