I don't know how to write poetry like I don't know how to kiss you.

Our lips touch, my heart races, but my hands don't know how closely I am able to hold on to you.

If I could write poems I'd tell you how holding you close feels like finding a life jacket when you're lost at sea.

I'd tell you how your smile is the safest place I have ever known. That I've decorated the walls of my heart with your memories so I have somewhere to call home.

But I can't.

When you're around my body becomes a garden.

Butterflies dance around wildly in my stomach, through a meadow of delusion.

Vines grow and twist around my heart, in the same way that they make old ruins beautiful.

My tongue is paradise.

A thousand blooms unfurling in your sunlight, a bed of velvet soft petals with the sweetest nectar you're only too happy to devour.

You gorge away on the sweetest fruits, th nectar, you take your cuttings for ornaments. And when youre done you leave.

Darkness follows in your wake, my eyes become waterfalls, washing any colour that remained until there is only grey.

I can't kiss you. Because I know that afterwards there is a storm without parallel. I know resting my hand on your skin is no longer a silent I love you. More like a moth flying to close to the flame.

And I can't write a poem, because when you leave me, there is nothing left...

Worthless.

You're **** right

You aint worth less!

I wish I could remember that words unspoken are sometimes more powerful.

I sometimes wonder if you'd invite me to your wedding.
And if not why?
Would it be to spare my ghostly heart the pain?
Or to spare your rotted one the guilt?

If you did, I wonder if your blessed bride would see my fake smile  covering up the snarls of my jealous rage.
Or if to her, I would simply be as insignificant as you make me feel...

A mood can change in the blink of an eye.
Your texts stir up like dissolving lies.
My hands shake to the beat of my thundering heart.
My blood runs cold enough to freeze the pendulum swinging in my head.
My stomach wants to be sick, its letting me know my world is upside down.
The cold sweat consumes me.
Locks me in my head with my whirling thoughts.

When i claw myself out of this madness, i ask who am i?
Who am i to be jealous over an unrequited love?
They could make you happy, surely, i just want you to be happy?

I do want you to be happy.

This love. This hurt. This friendship. This obsession.

This nothingness is leaving no space left for sanity.

A mood can change in the blink of an eye.
I reread your text through blurry eyes.
My hands shake to the beat of my racing heart.
My blood runs cold and the red mist decends over my restraint.
The cold sweat consumes me.
Locks me in my head with my whirling thoughts.

When i claw myself out of this madness, i ask who am i?
Who am i to be jealous over an unrequited love?
They could make you happy, surely, i just want you to be happy?

This love. This hurt. This friendship. This obsession.

This nothingness is leaving no space left for sanity.

Today, I sat under a blue sky.
I basked in glory, golden rays caressed my skin and greek gods danced upon the pages in front of me.

Today i made a decision.

A decision that was made long ago.
Long before I woke, before i was even gifted life.

A decision as old as time itself, one forged with the intensity of a black hole.

One that burns with the fire of a thousand suns.

One that has lived a thousand lives before, remembers the tastes of wisdom. Only faintly.

One that wishes to be all it was, all that is no longer.

One that wishes to see all these eyes can see before they close one last time.

A decision that states. That sings, declares, needs, exclaims, screams and begs of me.

A decision, quite and sure as steel: this is not enough.

Out of my feet i made anchors, I sunk them into the depths of me.
Carved my name into the side of my weathered and bloodied flank.
Changed the bulb in my lighthouse mind, to guide my lost soul home.

You are not the one.
Me and you, we make no sense.

But.

For my wasted hollowed heart, you are the only one.

One day you may love me back,
One day i may walk back into the sunshine...

Let me feel the tremble in your body when you cry.
Ill hold you close like there is no world around us.
No star, no burning sun could dampen your light.
You're a flame that burns too bright for this earth.

Let me break my heart into a thousand pieces so i may love you with each fragment.
I can't continue with you, and i can't continue without you.

My kitchen tiles know the taste if my tears as I lay, pining for you early every morning...

I want what I want too much.

I am what i want too little.

And if the scars of heartbreak create a mosaic of your face.

Using binds that can't break if delusions can't shatter.

I'll look at it in the mirror, I'll note how its the only colour on my drained fragmented being.

And, I'll still see it as a masterpiece, art, beautiful.

A face that from me draws a love that knows no bounds.

You were just another mistake to learn.

First you fall in love...

Then you land on the jagged shards of your delusions.

I love you is the heaviest and vastest sentence I know.

I spend my days trying to work out if im being crushed under it.

... Or drowning in it.

Why do you want me to want you when you dont want me too?
Why do you need me when you dont want me to need you too?
Why do you make me love you when you know you'll never love me too?

The radio taunts me again today.
Singers singing song to me, that speak to me.
Their voices angelic, some I know you'd like before you do.
All of them sing to me what I can't find the words to say to you.

Holding my head in my hands again, these headaches are getting worse.
These headaches are bruises from the merciless memories of you.
I go to the pub with you like I'm pretending alcohol is the antidote to love.
Like I think if I drink enough I won't want to wake up next to you.

Like maybe I'm hoping you'll drink to forget we're just friends, just for a while
So I could love and loose than spend my life wondering, waiting for you to want me too.

I fear that I feel too deeply.
When I feel nothing, I feel it completely.

Writers are the most beautiful of artists.
Complex and unique.
They make the most exquisite, beautiful jewelry.
Every word sends out ripples like water,
sometimes you can see yourself staring back.

Some turn their words into pendants shaped like hearts, and teardrops and all manner of things.
And you can hang them on your heart, or in your head and you'll never take them off.

A writer writes about their monsters, crushes them to coal and uses them to make a forge.

But I, no, a writer I am not.
My words bleed from me, half congealed from the half-dead body they spilt from.
The other half already dust because you must live before you die.
But some people die before they live.

My words, lonely, lingering, they long for more to write about than emptiness.

Another pang of loneliness as i make one cup of tea.
Another uncomfortable smile from someone who isnt you.
Another rain song at my window pain.
Another blanket of melancholy to hold me under.
More tears fall on my drive to work.
Another 24 hours of fill the void with shapes that dont fit.

Another beautiful dream, one more hug. I watch you smile at someone else and I know.

Ill never stop falling in love with you.

Im sorry of this is offensive but made me an obsessive.
This isnt ****** but we both know *** is power and I feel powerless

I want to leave,
Because I want to live.

I fear that staying still, staying here.
Is to simply exist.

I know that you're a writer.
One day you're going to tell our story.

It's going to be the greatest love story the world has ever known.
Or the greatest, most tragic tale of loss.

Which way the pendulum swings is up to you.

Rest assured that you are wanted.
At any given time and place.

Rest assured that yours is the only face that can soothe my soul.
Even if it is sick or sad or flawless and perfect.

Beauty is not a static state of seeing.
But more a fluid feeling that stays constant.

So, whatever you are is is exactly what I desire.
Whatever you look like is exactly what I want, need, long to see.

Always.

Loving you is making me crazy.
Some days all I have is a head full of maybe.
Unconditional fits in my mouth like your hand does in mine.
Alone, my hands search through your puzzles trying to find peace of mind.

If a book can make you fall. In love with people who don't exist,

Why can't I when I love you as you wish?

I've been pulling at my seams lately,
trying to pick up stitches god dropped.

I tied a golden thread around my tounge,
and stiched poems of innocence.

I had hoped to mend our broken parts,
oversew our rough edges together till were complete.

But, you said my confessions made you itchy.
I'm nothing you want, and what you want I'll never be.

I have dark secrets stashed in my heart.
Not idle gossip or an unknown fact.
This secret feels more like a ball and chain.
This freedom you have given feels like a prison.

I heard that pain nourishes courage.
And that romanticised love is cancer.

I hope that this suffocating, consuming  love will devour enough of me.

Will make me sick enough to find the courage. The cure I need.

To fall out of love with you...

Your heartbeat is my favourite sound.
I can't get the rytham of your breathing out of my head.

To be close enough to hear this song is is a dream.

I only wish I could hear it just once!

I never knew being in love was learning how to be your friend.

I knever knew that life was learning to hold on to the end.

Loving you feels like the closest ill get to see the blue of a flame.

From the inside...

To me you are floccinaucinihilipilification,
and as ugly as the word too...

'I don't want anyone to get hurt'
Your words as sharp as the knife you're twisting...

My tongue speaks in riddles my ears can't decipher.
It twists and turns, guiding a rollercoaster of emotion.
My hands protect my head during sudden drops.
As my knees crash to the floor to beg for mercy.

I decided to name my loneliness after you.
Then you'll always be here as if you love me too.

There is no one I am more jealous of than your ex-girlfriend.

... Except your next one.

This longing is like needing something I can't have.
Like a homesickness so deep it's all consuming.
If I could equate you with an ocean.
I could say my only way home was to breathe underwater.