They say, "There are plenty of fish in the sea," but you see, I assure you, I am no longer in the sea, I am on the dock barely breathing.

When you left me all alone, I flopped out of the water in a full blown panic, with every text you did not open I launched myself into the air trying to remember how to breath. With every day we did not speak I grew weaker, oxygen deprived, you were my air supply. Flopping, flopping, gasping, and desperately grabbing onto any part of you I had left, I no longer felt alive, have I already tasted the bitterness of death? All I think about all day on the gritty dock is our best memories and the secrets you unlocked for me, we had something so pure and good; and then reality comes flooding back in the form of a panic attack, why am I not good enough, how the hell do you not miss me, where is your pain and your misery? Flop, flop, until finally it stops. I have been lulled into a disgusting dream, one where we do not speak, and this is supposed to be reality. I can no longer breathe. I am a fish out of water, with no more wounds left to bleed. I am dried out. Entirely. No more tears, air, or life can be found inside me. Please, Dear God someone put me back in the sea. Let us reabsorb the love that has inevitably left me to plead. But no, friend, carry on, there are plenty of fish in the sea. There just is no longer me.

My Adonis
In a metal T-shirt
His curls, his smile
The lights and sweat
A quick word spoken
But an everlasting vision left
Of who I imagined he could be

In my mind I lived a life by his side
My fingertips on the nape of his neck
Feeling his lips against my skin
Waking up wrapped in his arms
In that shirt
All in the matter of a moment
And a fleeting one at that

So I will keep this perfect stranger
In a place I hope he never fades
For it would be a tragedy to ever forget that face

In the land of liars,
the honest man
must
be
crucified.

A poem about coffee
How cheap
How over used
A poet speaking on coffee
Is like a politician making a promise

But this is where we live
Our inner self brought out by consuming
Coffee, *****, drugs, love....

Pick your poison and get writing.

My love is like a sickness
A bringer of disease
It infects all those it touches,
Destroys all that it sees.

Your love is like a razor,
It cuts me to the core.
With promises of passion,
Like all the times before.

This love is like a poison,
With no known remedy.
It weaves between our souls,
And ***** all life from me.

I long to feel your touch,
And your lips upon my skin.
But the love we have between us,
Is nothing more than sin.

Now I'll slip away,
And wipe you from my mind.
You are a shadow on my heart,
And I'll leave your love behind.