you still exist
in the crinkled pages of my notebook.
last autumn i dog-eared the top corners so i would find my way back.
your veins dance with the curves and loops of my
frail
frail
words.
the contours of your dreams lay in the indents of my ballpoint pens.
your fears bleed black and blue.
your voice--the raspy scratching of graphite before bed.
my sentences often sit incomplete because that's how you left--
in the middle
without warning
because you lacked a single transition.
your breath echos at the turn of every page
inhale--look back
exhale--look forward
(i can almost feel your lungs working alongside my own).
your blood runs red as i scribble across the pages--
at times i am in a frenzy, lacking control as my hands skirt along the paper.
other days, i am silent, waiting for my hand to pick up the pen
and bring you to life.

i keep telling myself that
you still exist
in the crinkled pages of my notebook
but
every time i close its covers shut,
i can't seem to find you.

she says report, report, report it
i’m trying to tell her
how difficult it was
to even disclose to her
how my ribs
turned into seatbelts.

Warm hands outstretched,
Hey, are you okay?
Welcoming eyes of fire,
Please, I'm asking you to stay.
And now I realize, that at that first touch,
I should have walked away.

She was an artist, who drew me into her life.
The way she’d paint my name on her canvas.
The way she swept me away with every blank verse.

But one fact remained,

She drew me into her life only to smudge me into different shades,
Painted my name in watercolour as my name was smeared off the page,
And with every blank verse I fell, plummeting into an uncertain oblivion.

She was an artist,
Who got sick and tired of dead colours,
So she drew colours from broken hearts,
And bruised emotions.

TWO DIFFERENT WORDS - THE DIFFERENCE IS ABSURD,
I''VE FORGOTTEN 'IN' AND NOW THERE'S A THIRD,
WE KNOW WHAT'S BEST AND ALSO WHAT'S EQUAL,
BUT MAYBE INEQUALITY BECOMES A DOUBTFUL SEQUEL;
ALL THIS RHETORIC IS BORING - I HEAR YOU SNORING,
AMAZING ALL THE NONSENSE YOU READ WHEN PORING
OVER SOMEONE'S TREATISE BUT WHOSE TO SAY 'BOO,'
IT''S WRITTEN LIKE ROTE AND NO ONE CAN CHANGE A THING;
NE ' ER MIND, YOU TAKE WHAT YOU CAN FROM THE ERUDITE MAN,
SUDDENLY I FEEL SORRY FOR THE MIND OF AN ARTISAN,
EVERYONE IS MISSING SO MUCH - THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT
'QUALITY' MEANS, NOT SURE OF INEQUALITY, IT'S A PITY
THAT 'EQUALITY' IS NOT THERE, LET THEM STAND AND STARE;
YOU'LL KNOW THAT THEY'LL JUST SAY - 'I REALLY DON'T CARE.'

Its that time once a year when hearts
Beating upon words of love. But thoughts
Were thinking of the latter how to make
Beats
        Rhythm
                    Love
To cease with but a gesture a whim.
A heart did whisper on the chest but
Never did it utter the word  that spelt
Least
         Of
                 Valued
                              Emotions
It wasn't in my being I was a void shell.
But other were teaming with it like a flower
They sent the scent of bitter aroma into the air.

And it made my eyes bleed tears. So I thought
Of culling these tears falling on this day. I held
Them couples no singles were aloud in here.

I drew a heart on their chest, A+ in creative design
Cant let all those hours go to waste.

…....lovelovelo…
…..lovelovelove….
...lovelovelovelove……………….….
...lovelovelovelovelo…………..lovel….
.....lovelovelovelovelove…….…lovelovelo.
.. lovel |OOOOO|velove……|OOOOO|.
...lovelo\OO/lovelovelo…..…lov\OO/elo…
..…lovelovelovelovelove..…lovelovelo…
…….lovelovelolovelovelovelovelovelo…
…..….lovelo\OOlovelovelOOO/elovelov…
……..….lovelo\OOveloOO/lovelo…
………..….lovelov\OO/ovelove…
………………lovelovelo….
………………..lovelo…
……………………..
…………………....

That word was scribbled till it lost ist meaning in
Mumbled scribbles, I even put OO,s in the shape
Of two eyes and a smile. I know immature, so **** me.

They were scared I could see it in their eyes, I never
Pick those of no vows, they must be saturated in the
Meaning so bands of eternity are a must.
Gold
      Silver
             Platinum
Worthless to me but in a jar they sit gathering dust,

"I have been at this a while,
"Since the age of??  "10,
"My mum and dad were my first,
"Never showed me love the opposite trust me,

I separate them ever so slightly so their finger tips
Can reach out, its kind of teasing while out cold I
Measure the distance and move accordingly its a must.

Wake up rise and shine, they gauge their surroundings
Then the muffled screams,

"Jesus you could write a book on the reactions of this,
"I have it will be I have self published on amadon,
"Still waiting for the proof reading to come back,

They see each other than the finger reaching begins,
Clinical to the moment then the muffled threats.
They look down and see the picture on their chests.

"Love you tender, love you sweet,
"Its that time of year when feelings cut into me,
"Say hello to my little friend, he helps cut it out,

I always liked singing that little piece, then the screams
So coordinated. Its like a script of a movie,  a B movie
Hahaha... "Sorry that was a bit uncalled for, hehehe...

Now who's going first? its always manners to ask this not to
Just cut and run. They look bewildered in confused thought,
But as manners dictate ladies first, and then with out further adieu.

The breast is such a pain but after trial and error mostly error.
What a mess the first few times, but now its almost surgical.
To the hilt the knife slices across picture then silence.

He squirms like a rabid animal, but I silence him with a gesture.
Now two hearts that yearned each other, now silently static.
I stare at them, and gentle slice the picture from their being.

This room it has one chair, white and bold. On the wall sits
Frames of all the love that ceased, their heart ache lives
On hanging with pride in white frames upon my wall.