Cleaning out the memories Mopping every tear Vacuuming up the doubts Wiping away the unsaid Erasing phone records With a little brush and A hint of bleach. Throwing away my anger And a night of heat and sweat. Stepping out the door Putting the key in the hole Jingling the **** Turning around And walking away.
I always wondered who taught you how to love was it the fierce full moon while it lighted you through a blackout night? or the night owl who sweetly sang you lullabies?
it wasn't until I had you At the darkest hour of the night Howling under the moon And saw your hazel eyes So vulnerable, yet fearless That I knew it was the wild wolves who gently taught you how to love
Never fall in love with a poet. They will break you apart like stanzas. You are a metaphor, a simile, an oxy- *****. Never fall in love with a poet. They will tear you apart like a rough draft, burn you, and then call it art.