For thee I utter those three words,
Declared then to be true,
Never was there a star-crossed pair,
To rival the sun and moon.

Not like you and I you see,
As the heavens declared our fate,
To shine like beacons brilliantly,
And rival golden gates.

To light the world eagerly,
With a pair of broken smiles,
Carried still so gracefully,
Through life and all it's trials.

For we were blessed to find a match,
And spark the flames of love,
It seems that we were made made from scratch,
As a star-crossed pair above.

The tune will carry the weight,
As the hand rushes away in rhythm,
Don't stop writing now,
No time to look back,
Race the fleeting song away,
Before the doubting black.

Feel your eyes drift away to reread a line,
But stay focused,
Don't stop now,
There is no time for self doubt.

Who cares what you write down?
It's yours right now,
Worry about the details later,
When you feel drained,
See what comes of writing today.

I have nothing more to write about,
Since you moved in; all else moved out,
All thoughts of how to win your heart,
Of love and joy in equal parts,
All are gone; and there a drought.

And ever since that fateful day
I lay my words out on display,
All too dated and so cliche,
But what am I supposed to do?
A hopeless fool when meeting you,
And in romance I'll stay the same,
My heart forever calls your name.

Yet even so I wonder then,
What good to me is written pen,
When nothing seems to find its place,
Longing still for better days.

Sometimes I wonder why I hesitate on things I say,
Maybe I don't think they're mine In the first place,
I worry about that you know?
How much of me is gone now that I'm grown?
How much is my mother, my sister, my father, another?
How much is me and what do I own?
How many of your thoughts have found a home in me?
So sweetly, sincerely, I ask you in a cheesy way,
How much of me can I really claim?

In those moments of great despair,
I often wonder here and there,
Just how often she tends to care,
Wether or not I'm really there.
Or does she fabricate just so,
We collaborate to and fro,
On what would make her worries go,
Out the window; to and fro.
Does she care for me at all,
To give my tired form a call,
And speak to me with wondrous gall,
Does she care? I tend to call.
And honestly I cannot tell,
If she is casting there a spell,
In that moment to make me well,
By faking there a panicked spell.
But every night or some such time,
She calls on me to ease her mind,
And soothe her soul with words sublime,
She calls on me; every time.
So then I wonder if it's true,
Or just a carefully crafted ruse,
To connect with her anew,
In the context of a ruse.

No more sway in the angel's spell,
To hold my heart and keep unwell,
All thoughts of me, oh happy day,
The one I loved has flown away.

Goodbye my love and gentle muse,
I was blind to your misuse,
No more binding words to heel,
All happy thoughts of how to feel.

Ironic then that you despised,
My wounded heart and weakened pride,
As it would seem you were the cause,
For all my often mentioned flaws.

My nervousness was linked to you,
And often times my sadness too,
Would dance in pair, a tragic waltz,
To amplify my many faults.

And then would come the sly remarks,
To keep me guessing at your heart,
And all the while you'd wonder why,
My confidence just seemed to die.

But for all my faults and flaws alike,
There is one truth I can't deny,
My life was better when you weren't here,
So goodbye my love, most sincere.

never trust a poet's words
they sound sweet at first
but you'll notice the emotion in their words
it all sounds too...
fake
"i love you like the sea loves the shore"
becomes too scripted
you hear the small tinge of love actually left in their voice
hoping
hoping it could mean something
but it doesn't
it never does
it's just the way they say it
one day, after they have left
you will find their poems, and they will be the exact words that they had said to you
once long ago