living in the moment
lasts for the moment,

loving myself
requires living every single moment

I could write something beautiful
And poetic
About his lack of love for me
But the emptiness
Consumes all my senses
And I fear all the words that come to mind when I think of him are

‘How could you?’

But outer Space,
At least this far,
For all the fuss
Of the populace
Stays more popular
Than populous

you broke me like a pen
messy and dark
let my ink sink into your skin
and leave a permanent mark

through the corridor,
the steps of your heart have a beat
the balcony on the second floor,
the creases in my sheets

This little bag I hope will prove
To be not vainly made —
For, if you should a needle want
It will afford you aid.
And as we are about to part
T'will serve another end,
For when you look upon the Bag
You'll recollect your friend.