The worst type of poetry is the kind
That was never written down.
It's stuck in peoples hearts, but not
On paper.
It would **** to be whispered in your
Lovers heart,
Instead of dying in your throat.
You never did pick up that pen.
In your own way, you left some words
Dead,
Unsaid.  

The worst type of poetry is the kind that is left in peoples heads.

i will watch as you walk away with pieces of my brittle heart lodged into your palms
and i hope they sting every time her hand slips into yours

i will watch empty promises tumble from your mouth as you exhale  
and i hope you choke on them

and as you breathe in every molecule of her perfume
i hope the scent stings your nose

i will watch you kiss her and kiss her and kiss her
and i hope it's the best experience of your life

so i watch you fall from grace as she discards you like a jumper she has outgrown
and i taste the same sweet satisfaction you did when she kissed you

i watch as a drunken mess
because the hangovers hurt much less than even a fleeting thought of you

Well, my deputy had been in the job
a month into it
and the deputy called me on the phone
from the woods nearby, on routine duty:
"Hello sheriff – there’s a body here,
I just noticed, below a tree…he appears dead
What do I do?"

"Well," I answered, with authority
"Before we take things any further,
first, let’s ensure he’s dead -"

And my deputy said:
"Hang on..."
And then my deputy was back on the phone:
*"OK, I just put 3 bullets in him
I’m dead sure he’s dead
What do I do next?"

You and I
breathed each other in
and now we burn on
each other tongues
like the cigarettes that
sit between your
beautiful lips.

I float in your presence
When your around i feel wonderful
So full i have to wonder
If these feelings are mutual

Once upon a time
I felt like exploding
a bomb full of love
Able to move mountains together
Nothing we couldn't overcome
While creating an empire
we could call home
Just recording our story
Like it's a romantic novel

Without devastation
It can't be true love
So embrace the pain as it comes
It just builds character for the end
In order to be remembered
Our ****** must be epic

Nothing last's an eternity
Everything comes to an end
So be sure once you close the cover
Things will get left a cliff hanger
For a later date, To be brought back to life in a sequel

Well, a month into the job
as local sheriff I needed an assistant
and so I advertised and got one interviewee
“What’s 1 plus 1?” I asked
“11,” came the swift reply

Well, I thought, that was creative,
and might be useful in the job
and so I said:
“What two days of the week start with T?”
“Today and Tomorrow,” was the reply

Well, maybe that’s how creative people are, I thought,
in this part of the country;
so I narrowed things to general knowledge:
“Who killed Abraham Lincoln?”

“Wow!” said the candidate, completely elated.
*“You mean I got the job
and you’re already putting me
on my first ****** case?’