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I wish I could turn off the city lights and dim the stars
Lock away my mind behind steel bars
Maybe if I pause the world
The ache of living will slowly fade from my bones
What if sleep is the only time I ever feel at home
And lately taking breaths to stay has become the hardest task
All I ever seem to do is look back
My heart may be pumping
But I can’t feel the beat
It’s the murmur of a hummingbird's wings, soft and discreet
I seem quiet
Yet my thoughts run deep
How many of us feel incomplete
So many young minds already succumb to defeat
I know I can’t be the only one
These are the things that my friends don’t say
But I see them slowly fade away
Slip into another day
Of just trying to make it by
The only way we cope is by getting high
Is this what it means to be alive or do we just survive?
Did someone with a capital “S” put us here?
If so, who and why?
Are we all just born to die?
Why should we even try?
Tell me you think about these things too
I know that you do
We are the fragile youth with nothing to lose
And everything to gain, if only we were not afraid
Never of death, but the in between
Dealing with broken dreams and trying to stitch up the seams
The scars will always show, this much I know
It is up to us to choose if we grow
Softly, her soft and warm
caresses on my face fade
as she takes a dip in the water.
Trailing behind her are
beautiful rays of blonde
and auburn hair.

I watch the spectacular
final act of the sun as she
leaves her stage, bringing
sadness to her spectators;
She takes joy away for
seeing her is joy itself.

And as the world turns dark,
I am overcome with the
feeling of pain and regret
as I realize I didn't watch
the sun set alone before.
Swirling and swirling,
that was how the coffee went
as I stirred it,
wishing at the same time
that I could go into the whirlpool
and just drown.

And I drank the coffee
without cooling it,
not caring if it burns my throat.
I felt it trace a warm trail
on my esophagus
and scatter on my chest.
It finally reached my heart
which has been cold for so long.
The feeling was comforting.
 Jun 2014 Alexander Lopez
Love
A poet in love is like a match soaked in gasoline,
And when a poet falls in love,
With someone no more than another poet themselves,
A catastrophe is created.

— The End —