mediocre and
faded
the average poem
no longer strikes chords
in the heart's harp
use extravagant vocabulary
weave your words tight
until they seem uncomfortable
the original meaning lost
between the claustrophobic corners
covered in lace and pretentious boasting
try but don't try so hard
that no one but the classic readers
would be able to understand
the words you've worked so hard to convey
do not force a poem out
or it will stick your fingers and
it will create a mess
similar to a teenage boy
it will be long and uncomfortable with itself
unknowing of how to adjust
into this thing that is supposed to be
mature now despite wanting to be simple
do not rush poetry
find quiet inspiration
in silent observations
of yourself, of nature
rushing poetry makes it fast
too many unfilled thoughts
racing around in one space
not meeting each other
despite being so close together
tell a story with imagery
with delicate words of morality
tell a story with flashbacks
with soft lips and with stained shirts
tell a story with love
make your poems with care

i am speechless

i am speechless at the thought of you
your care
               your words
                                 your smile
                                                         your potential.
bridges have fallen
                            crashed down
                                                  burned
a home ransacked
                             pillaged
                                          put in ruins

my heart melted from blind love

                                    and

your heart remained privately unyielding
                         toxically and stealthily.

i am speechless

When you feel that burn way deep in your chest; the one that forbids you from getting any rest.

When you feel that sting all around your eyes, the one that tells you, you need to cry.

When you feel that ache of being used, and you don’t know what you did, or what to do.

When you feel that panic of not knowing a thing, and he doesn’t care, and yes it stings.

When you feel that sadness of being stomped and crushed, and its getting hard to keep holding up.

When you feel the need to lock the door and find your glass and count to four.

When you feel the urge to break your skin and watch it bleed cause you’re hurting within.

When you lay in bed in the middle of the night, and you know what’s wrong, but not what’s right.

When you miss him so much, and its killing you slow, cause to him you are nothing,

and that much,

you know.

She's got a heavy heart,
a messy soul,
a reckless mind,
& I think it's beautiful
the way she carries herself.