Love is not a drug
Because that would imply that
Love is a bad thing

Feeling like I do
When I do, and do I,
Miss you.
Well, I know why.

We loved us,
but we didn't love each other.
Like heat in the summer.
We were warm, but we could suffer.

Remembering You and I
The littlest things.
How did it die?
Is love made to sting?

We both sit alone.
"She thought too much.
He didn't care enough."
Written on love's tombstone.

Butterflies kept inside my chest
I'll save them for a less than sunny day.
tucked inside my bed where I lay.
the winged creatures inside me at bay
flipping and flying contently at play.
they move from my chest far
to my brain where they stay,
My mind starts to wander,
these insects are incessant theyre my constant thoughts.
disguised as beautiful winged creatures, but most are not.
my dark thoughts are moths to be swatted away,
some have bright wings.
the beautiful ones just don't seem to stay.
This hidden part of me,
can be quite gray.
I try to drown all my monsters,
Like when Noah built the ark.
Sail away with my beautiful creatures.
The moths swimming like basking sharks.
These are unseen by many
and observed by few.
I gain a moth, and lose a monarch
Every time they're met by someone new,
Or my broken heart.
But who's to say there's no beauty in something dark.

‘The coffee is getting cold’.

The sweet retold
From her
Waiting with the winter’s brew!

No ambition I harbor
For here my woman
The best way she can
Makes steaming brew
Worth my savor!

She knows too
In the wintry nights
With her I crave to be
Sipping her hot coffee
With it drowning the winter’s pain
My only reward, best bargain
A sweet story retold!

‘The coffee is getting cold’
From her
Creating for me summer’s brew!

I keep trying to wash away
The pain from my skin
But no matter how hard I scrub
The scars are still there

I dive in without checking there's water in
the pool.