When the moon hits your eyes
Like a big pizza pie, that’s amore…
Amore, love, blah blah blah
Shut the **** up
What do they know of amore?

Let me tell you about *a-more-ay
it’s a-more-of-ay deep burning feeling
that starts in your spleen
and eventually
gleans it’s way into your subconscious

it’s a-more-of-ay consuming blaze
that leaves you in a haze
and the cinders smolder for too long after

it’s a-more-of-ay painful wound from which you never heal
and the only real
truth anyone will tell you is how love hurts

**** right it hurts

It rips you to shreds and builds a new you
A-more-of-ay tender you
A you that feels the pain in your every fiber
until it hurts so bad you begin to LOVE the pain
that’s amore…
a-more-of-ay joke than I’ve ever heard before

Thoughts of you
Fill my insomnia ridden mind
Am I going crazy
Or did I just hear you call me baby?

You’re not even a distinct figure in my dreams
And yet you seem to haunt my nightmares
Terrors of the dark dreaminess
Floating, bubbling up through my brain
Like a geyser of insecurity and heartache


And so here I am lying
In this bed
Lying to myself
Imagining other loves
I have yet to find

And there’s your voice I hear
Calling me baby
Calling me back to
The figment of your imaginary
Self
Relaxing on those inner dusty shelves
Called my cerebrum

No, these are just the shadows of
That pre-dawn gloom
Memories from yonder year that
Somehow resurface in the darkness
Behind my eyelids

Dreams come hard to an insomniac
If only these really were just dreams
Instead of the mad ramblings
Of a sleep deprived yet very much awake
Lonely soul

Thoughts of you
Fill my insomnia ridden mind
Am I going crazy
Or did I just hear you call me baby?

You’re not even a distinct figure in my dreams
And yet you seem to haunt my nightmares
Terrors of the dark dreaminess
Floating, bubbling up through my brain
Like a geyser of insecurity and heartache


And so here I am lying
In this bed
Lying to myself
Imagining other loves
I have yet to find

And there’s your voice I hear
Calling me baby
Calling me back to
The figment of your imaginary
Self
Relaxing on those inner dusty shelves
Called my cerebrum

No, these are just the shadows of
That pre-dawn gloom
Memories from yonder year that
Somehow resurface in the darkness
Behind my eyelids

Dreams come hard to an insomniac
If only these really were just dreams
Instead of the mad ramblings
Of a sleep deprived yet very much awake
Lonely soul

I’m trying to write a happy poem
Something that moves and is continuously flowin’
I’m not sure why,
Because I always write
Such awesome dark poems
And they are always flowin’ .
But here’s my little try
At trying to be wry
Hope this poem
Is kinda flowin’

What is black and blue and hurt all over?
A heart
What heals faster than anything else we know?
A heart
What is the scariest thing to ever let someone else discover?
YOUR heart
And why do you scream into the pillow at night and stare off into the distance in quiet moments?
Because that heart is broken
And how do you help heal this wound inside?
Scream into the pillow at night and stare off into the distance in quiet moments,
Trying to discern the fearful future you so desperately look forward to.
And lock away that heart
Your broken, beaten, black and blue heart
That has been slowly beating to the beat of a ramshackle life
A life that has been patched up and whose banner is flying
Proud and tattered high above the abyss
Of lonely people with black and blue broken hearts
So, that being said, what is black and blue and hurt all over?
Humanity
What heals faster than anything else we know?
Humanity
What is the scariest thing to ever really discover?
Humanity

It ended
He is gone
My heart was broken
And now I sit, band-aid encrusted heart
Tender, aching, lonely heart
But no tear will flow from my eyes
Not anymore.

Because he is gone.
He was not worthy of my full heart
Of my fierce love
If only my—stupid—heart
Had known that

Had know that he’d leave me
Known that he could not—would not—protect my
Heart I had so readily given
He left with it
And now—now I must piece together the
Smoking remnants of my ****** blasted heart
And I do this with my head held high
Because no tear will flow from my eyes
Not anymore.



I still look at our pictures
I still recall your laugh
I still ponder the how and why
Of our relationship
How—could I have loved you, who were so wrong for me?
Why—did I trust you not to break me like so many others before?
We had fun, we loved (or so I thought), but
Deep down, we both knew this couldn’t work.
You are not a man---not a man who can love and be loved.
You are a selfish boy who uses love as
Your Weapon of mass destruction
--Love terrorist—
And many will laugh at me, and shake their heads, smirking at my words on this page
Because I believed in you.
Believed I could be the one to make you the man I saw that you could one day be
But you weren’t meant to be with me
Nor I you.
You made me realize the bitterness of love but also the
Beautiful chemistry of BEING in love.
That is why I still look at our pictures
Why I can recall your laugh. Because you
Taught me what love is not

The excitement and anticipation is
Killing me
Killing me in a wonderful, fantastic way
In a way that I’d want to die
In your arms
In that security
But not before I see you
Before I cook for you
Dance with you
Stand up and say I do

Not before we fight and makeup
Wake up in each others’ arms again
Grocery shop and maybe even
Hit rock bottom only to find
Our love again.

Because our love
Is the only love
I want to love.

When we get old
It will sustain us
And when we die
They will say
At least they loved
And loved again.