When the writing feels stiff and stifled,
Uninviting where once delightful,
Where do you hang a pen?
From end to end I’ve searched my soul,
I’ve looked within, I’ve paid the toll,
I’ve strolled deep down that memory lane,
But writing now just feels too plain.
So I ask you now my dear old friend,
My dried up, withered, wilting pen,
Where do I hang you in the end?
With words all gone and want well spent,
What show you now in your defense,
But passion’s long and growing blaze,
Died to embers in it’s place?
Have you nothing left to say,
With such old and fading grace?
Where do I hang you in dismay?
To say goodbye and walk away.

My passion’s dead or simply dying,
And though I’m trying to understand what’s left,
I’m finding it impossible to make any headway,
In a headspace so jam packed with memories and remedies for things I don’t even know about, I have my doubts about what I can trust, but if I must listen to my thoughts I’ll quit chasing what I think they forgot, and listen to myself for once even though it’s just a shell upon a shelf of losing touch.

A writer born,
Writes ‘til death,
From early morn,
To final breath.

With pen in hand,
And parchment-slip,
He shows command,
Of wit and quip.

A tragedy here,
A comedy there,
To summon both tears,
And laughter fair.

Evokes in you,
A smile wide,
To show what’s true,
What’s locked inside.

A mystery then,
To speak your name,
To spark within,
That fading flame.

Of hope and love,
Of things forgot,
A memory of,
A world we lost.

To talk of soul,
Yet be cut off,
By woes of love,
Upon the rocks,
Dashed and diced,
In passion’s prime,
Is nothing more,
Than a mark of time.

The weary one,
Who counts his blessings,
By races run,
With tired methods,
Prays for rest,
Upon the wings,
Of the angel,
In fading ink.

Yet he knows now,
He is alone,
And for his troubles,
He shall atone,
As he loved her,
As soulmates do,
But wished an end,
Both well and true.

That was when,
His soul would close,
To any lovely,
Soft repose,
And he would fall,
To love itself,
And call “I’m sorry,”
As he fell.

I hold loyalty only to the colors of rose and chrome.
Searching for the exact same model of new and old,
Name of no consequence,
I have no use for this,
I wish I’d never met you in all the hopeful bliss.

I am the guest of honor at my own feast of betrayal,
Held in your name as a sacrifice to the flames of love,
So tell me now how I am a saint sweet raven,
Sweet angel,
And wring out my soul for your gain,
And I’ll happily commit character assassination in your name.

I am afraid to say I love you,
Even though I do,
From little things,
To diamond rings,
I’ll do or buy anything,
To prove that it is true.

But the reason that I’m scared,
Is a tricky little snare,
You love me,
Eternally, for now,
Until I mess up somehow,
And cause you quite a scare.

Then I could be better,
And in will come the weather,
From rain and doubt,
To lover’s drought,
Here come the bouts,
The sudden want to sever.

Pray for sincerity,
Yet beg me to stop,
It’s everything you say you need,
Not worth a thought.

But pardon me for caring,
I guess I’ll step away,
Wish you luck in love’s paring,
“But wait,” you said, “Stay.”

But I’ve got no gift for patience,
See not anymore,
Because I’ve played the game of waiting,
Too much before.

And all the sudden that’s my fault,
Why don’t I love you?
That’s just an insult,
I did and you knew.

So what happened to then?
All the time you had,
You called me a friend,
And I accepted that.

But now you’re unhappy,
Because I treat you like one,
You didn’t care about me,
When I made you the sun.

So how are you?
Dear friend of mine,
Let’s see this through,
And silently say goodbye.

Because the chance has come and gone,
I hate to say it,
But romance can only wait so long,
So goodb-.

A fool to care,
And a fool to dream,
A fool to hope,
Upon a spark, a gleam.

An ember born,
Of passion’s flame,
To mock my heart,
With a single name.

Radiant, the angel,
Both bright and smiling,
A gift, a treasure,
Worth the while.

Shall never see,
This lonely poem,
As I’ve given up,
And hope’s gone home.

Such is the curse,
Of “I love you” too late,
To sit on the side-lines,
To wither, to wait.

Such is the lot,
Of love never said,
To be unrequited,
To hope in love’s stead.

But what do I know,
Of love and it’s cares,
A daydreaming heart,
Who dabbles, not dares.

To take but one chance,
And give it a shot,
The gift of romance,
Which I never got.

Hello dear thoughts,
I say that a lot,
Are you here for a haunt,
Or a happy little jaunt down memory lane?

I’d like to keep warm here,
If it’s all the same to you,
I’d like to live sincerely,
And learn something new.

But it seems more often than not,
My dear friends, my thoughts,
That you’ve forgotten how to be happy,
And so I’m asking, stop me if I misunderstand you.

Because to me you seem to dwell,
On all the unfair, and all the unwell,
But we had lots of good times too,
Just swell don’t you remember?

Well I guess it’s too much to ask,
Like when I pray for the winter,
In December to last,
So I ask you now, unmask your thoughts.

And remember all the good times,
We up and forgot,
Like how everybody loves you, really, a lot.
Now if you can tell me,

Can we forget our memories,
Of tragedies, a masterpiece of sad-to-see thoughts,
A lot of you forgot the best part of me,
The happy part, a work of art with a sunrise in the margins.

I live for expression,
A common cause of depression,
Not saying I have it,
That would be tragic.

But I’ve looked at my father,
And bothered to ask it,
I said, “Do you think we’re depressed?”
He said, “No, we just feel for the casket.”

From that day on,
I’ve stumbled along,
Living life like a dream,
Where yesterday’s clear and tomorrow is gone.

He said to me “Son,
We are the givers,
And we have to be strong,
We feel for the pain and ease it along.”

“We open ourselves to the hurt and the worst,
Coating our shells with words in a verse,
Taking time then to hear, understand?
Being sincere is our role in the plan.”

But I look at him then,
And I think, and I see,
That out from his pen,
He writes so tragically.

And I wonder now often enough,
If the answer he gave was real or a bluff,
If giving’s our role then let it be said,
We carry the toll of depression expressed.

To the phantom girl I admire,
Who’s heart is center to desire,
The love, the one, for whom I do rise,
I surely do love your what-colored eyes.

The way they sparkle in the setting sun,
Or longingly hold the moon as the one,
Too look up to, adhere to, adore,
I love them like always, maybe, for sure.

Just as I love you for all that you are,
A “what if” kind of joy, a gift to my heart,
For all your perfections and wants that I see,
I’ll always love you, forever, maybe.

To know the touch of sweet regret,
Is to wish for time to give and let,
So lighten the sands and please regress,
Back to days I can’t forget.

To see the memories ebb and flow,
From face to faces I do not know,
Still etched within and laughing so,
Oh please dear years, just let them go.

I’ve asked for time both small and grand,
To stop it’s ever-onward plans,
Though seconds, hours, years have spanned,
Rewind the clock and ticking hands.

On life,
On death,
On me,
Ennui.

To move from dream to dream,
To think and recollect,
To drift within the stream,
Of life and then to jest.

How everything is clear,
How everything is grand,
How the world is sincere,
That never still it stands.

To curse the state of time,
And watch it slip away,
Perceived by the mind,
Ennui, just the same.

On we to our dreams,
Of platinum-plated wants,
Wether small or larger things,
Ennui, to the lot.

The only crime I was ever guilty of, and the worst one to date, was waiting too long to say I love you..

Like the sun loves the moon but watches it pass by every day,

Like the angels so awe-struck by the beauty of you, there are no words to say,
Like the sea rising up to meet the shore only to say goodbye again, I waited..

I waited on what my heart knew was the right call,
Because I have fallen so many times before.
But you have never let me down..

And so today I say I’m sorry,
For I stand accused and on trial for the greatest crime a heart commits,
A love never known...

Here me when I speak,
For I am the hidden king,
The advisor of the strings,
Which control this changing land.

By my own hand,
And in my own vision,
By my own right,
And slithering decision.

Your future is decided,
By my light-hearted words,
In a world so divided,
By kings of pawns-worth.

Let no man go,
Unpunished for his deeds,
His just reward or woe,
For twisted acts of greed.

Let no man decide,
That he is above the rest,
For it is only I,
Who holds the very best.

Of interest, of heart,
Of all that falls apart without my say,
I hold the strings,
And my fellow kingsmen  obey.

For it is I the advisor,
Who understands the truth,
I am the king’s decider,
My word is absolute.

If time is truth then let it be,
Absolute by fates decree,
For time moves on and here we wait,
For time to lose it’s moving state.

And in our grace we do declare,
Time’s swift movement is unfair!
And so we hate and twist and turn,
Always longing for time we’ve burned.

But in our wait we forget our ways,
Of moving on to better days,
And so we lose what we hold dear,
Memories made, most sincere.

And by the time we see our flaw,
Time has passed us up in awe,
Of grace, of beauty, of truth absolute,
Time cares not for wanting youth.

5 hours into day,
5 hours restless and awake,
5 hours be the length,
By which thy mood is tested.

If by 5 hours you grow weary,
Then the day shall drag,
Dreadful, dreary,
Let there be no mistake.

The stakes of the day,
Are easy to misplace,
To ask time to wait,
Is a laughable thing.

Yet still we say,
Why not do tomorrow,
In exchange for this day?
And our restless souls turn.

Filled with dread for tomorrow,
As we never learn,
That 5 hours in,
We start again.

A waking dream to reflect your memory,
All that I see of my reality,
Your name to another face,
My heart to another place.

In hopes and fantasy I make a home,
To reside in a space I’ve rarely known,
Of love and warmth,
Where smiles roam.

For you I write,
Words from a knife,
Left gently so,
Your somber touch,
I’d always know.

Words from a well,
Left to compel,
What’s left unsaid,
From a dreamer’s head.

And so I sit,
To reminisce,
Forever trapped,
As my penance.

For loving you,
My gentle muse,
Grasping names,
Which fade from view.

They twist and turn,
And laugh away,
These shadows here,
Of yesterday.

To blind me then,
Of simple truths,
I’m chasing names,
I hardly knew.

It seems that time,
Has left a stain,
A passing want,
For yesterday.

It seems love has dulled my rapier sharp wit down to a pen,
And to that end I am grateful,
God bless the angel who made me the man I’ve become.
A walking set of memories with remedies for heartache,
I put my hope in charity cases,
But make no mistake,
My days of being one are done.

God bless the humble heart that fumbled it’s way,
Into the lead part of my yesterday,
God bless the woman I loved,
Who showed me that trying to be enough,
Is sometimes far too much,
God bless her for what she was,
God bless her for who she is.

A friend in need,
A spirit freed,
A lover much,
But just enough,
Never such.

Please Don’t Go..

Dear Mother, please don’t go..

The news has barely had time to set in and already I feel a crescendo of tears raising up to greet me, and every memory I had so neatly tucked away is now blaring out on full display begging me to remember. But I can’t grasp at just one, all I can do is fight to process all the progress that led us here, to this 2/5 chance.

A 2/5 chance cancer might rear its ugly head. A 2/5 chance to end the dance of life and see you dead in the ground, and honestly I’ve seen the impact a minority number can have with a loud enough sound but I’ve never heard one so pronounced as this..so please don’t go.. because I’m not ready to say I’ll miss you..

I’m breaking down,
‘Cause I hear no sound,
Except for the laughter,
that I’m hearing loud.

From memories of you,
And memories of me,
Why can’t they just go,
Now I’m trying to breathe.

I want you to stay,
But I just can’t say,
I don’t want you to go now,
So baby please stay.

I don’t want you to go now,
So baby please stay.

Because the best part of me,
Has always been you,
And I just can’t see,
Myself starting anew.

I always kept quiet,
But here is the truth,
I always kept quiet,
Except around you.

Oh yes I always kept quiet,
Except around you...

Well I hear those accusations,
And I face’em well and true,
Yeah I hear those accusations,
From saints I never knew.

Now I’m not an honest man,
But a caring giving soul,
Said I’m not an honest man,
But years have taken toll.

And I ain’t a very simple man,
At least not the way I was,
No I ain’t a very simple man,
This life is just too much.

So I beg you hold your judgment,
Until the very end,
Said I beg you hold your judgment,
Of my most honest sin.

‘Cause I did the heavy deed,
Dreadful as it were,
Oh yes I did the heavy deed,
But hear me out good sir.

Ain’t a man like me,
Could do what needs be done,
No there ain’t a man like me,
Sittin’ under sun.

The truth is that I killed’em,
And now I face that day,
‘Cause the truth is that I killed’em,
And I don’t feel no shame.

You have to realize I wear my heart on my sleeve and I’ve got a rap sheet of loving scars long enough to cover both arms. so pardon me if I have a thing for tragedy, but my life has enough in it to be a playwright’s masterpiece.

Gods are made of men,
And flimsy things are they,
Just ask Zeus, the king of them,
Or Apollo of the golden ray.

Ask Poseidon, wave ruler for the faithful,
Or Hades, the distant kin of flame,
They’ll tell you then that men are hateful,
And put their faith to shame.

For Gods of men are powerful things,
Ruling rightly so,
Yet live and die in songs we sing,
As our whims will ebb and flow.

Yet just as strong and remembered still,
As those that we now know,
It was not so long since for them we killed,
Yet now they do bow low.

Why is it then that this king won,
And took with him the right,
To dictate men and send a son,
To represent the light?

Passing crown down through the years,
From one king to the next,
Appeasing men through faith and fear,
Until they’re rightly vexed.

Once, I knew her words to be somber sickening little things. The burdens she carried so heavily on her white and withering wings. Alas it was she who showed me the truth, that beauty may be found in heavy words. Fit to pull the heavens down to earth they were, and that was the birth of me. When all merry mirth found a new place to hold residence; in the sad and somber. ‘Twas after this I found myself chasing memories of her seductive shell. ‘Twas after this where halos only fell upon horned heads which could do no wrong. It was thanks to she that I saw beauty in weighted wings.

I already died once,
Was that not enough?
That was my reward for calling the devil’s bluff,
And saving the one I love.
But now the world’s asking me to grow up,
Or else it’ll judge me,
For being care free,
And finding life to be,
Anything more than lonely.

Grow up kid,
You haven’t earned a life well lived,
Until you dress like this,
Walk like that,
Stand up straight,
Be careful when you laugh,
‘Cause it’s not all fun and games,
Until your life has passed you by,
You only get to live,
If you’re willing to die.

I showed her my words and she told me,
“Write stories instead.”
I treat her like a princess but she always prefers the jester,
I tell her she’s beautiful and she doesn’t hear a word.
I make plans to hang out and she chooses someone else’s,
Nothing I do is ever good enough,
So why do I care about her still?

What do you do when life feels like a copy?
When the phrase “I love you” is just the cue for heartache?
When who you are misses who you were,
How much are you really worth?

When nothing ever feels quite right,
So you stay up all night thinking,
That life was once a steady ship,
And now you’re slowly sinking.

What do you do when you don’t feel good enough,
To ever really be sure?
When life shows you beauty,
That you’ve seen before?

There is power in who I am,
And from the hill where I stand,
I can’t see myself in your happy little kingdom,
For the crown that I wear is made of roses and rings,
To go with things left unsaid,
You say I’m insane but I’m king in my head,
And so I decree, come sunrise with glee,
All shall be free to rule their own mind,
In the odd-kind kingdom.

To the angel that I’ve yet to meet,
That gentle spark of creativity,
The calling card of humanity,
I’m so glad to see you sane.

Though the years apart do paint their toll,
For all of us to see,
None of that matters anymore,
Now that I’ve met you,
And you’ve met me.

I’d say I love you here,
But the years apart have been unkind,
For we both have our weight to carry,
But seeing you here sets all my care free,
Enough that maybe is almost certain.

So before we hear the curtain call,
Put on a dazzling display,
Of heart, of warmth, of spirit,
Set your weary heart to sea,
And let’s float gently together.

I count the birds from 1 to 10,
Resting wings on branches thin,
Tired so from Winter’s call,
“Abandon homes, take flight all!”

They run the race from north to south,
On wings of grace no time for doubt,
The place to be is warm and bright,
“We’ll make it there, through day and night!”

Away your songs, forgo your nest,
The journey’s long, hope for the best,
How can we know, just where we’ll be?
“Why it’s past down from family!”

In flying V’s, in pairs, alone,
We make the trip to find our home,
And find somehow we’ve made it here,
“A place we’ve known since yesteryear!”

Hearts are rare,
And halos dead,
I would declare,
No angels left.

Were it not for you,
A truth would shine,
In halos place,
And twist the mind.

No angels left,
But this rare find,
A lovely heart,
The lonely kind.

Of quiet words,
And brighter thought,
Show me then,
What time forgot.

The caring cure,
From healthy souls,
Before my own,
Became so cold.

I want to say I love you so badly,
But how can I when you find love everywhere?
In this heart or that one,
In that name and the next,
What is love to you,
But an endless honeymoon?
I want to give you what you say you want so badly,
But I’m afraid of being hurt.
In just a day she said my name,
So gentle and much too sweet.
In a week she said it with a gleam,
In two her friends heard wedding bells,
And my god I should have listened.
But I never said a word,
I was too afraid.
You asked me in a month or so,
What it would take for me to like you,
And I wanted so badly to say that I love you.
But how could I,
When you see love everywhere?
It’s been four years and I’m sorry,
But love just isn’t fair,
I’m stuck here lost in thought,
About how I never said I love you.

Music for a muse is a wonderful thing,
To hear the voices carry as angels sing,
And show you then their vibrant wings,
Of hope and hate reflected so,
Out on the winds, the proud loud notes.

A lullaby or siren’s song,
To keep you writing all night long,
The lower basses standing strong,
To carry with them the old tune,
And your interpretation soon.

Sorrow is a poison
That spreads from man to man
Unknowingly corrupting those around us and ahead.
Passed down from one generation to the next
From one heart to another
Darkening the beautiful blank slates that make up the foundation of promise.
With modes of transport as subtle as repression
And as pronounced as love.
I have lived for 22 years and observed the way it spreads.
A drop of sorrow to a wicked man is as common as rain
But it is a flood for those of good intent.
It gives simple words a sting, or even those unsaid
It turns a good man doubtful
And a doubtful dangerous.
Sorrow is the sum of wounds the heart has seen touched or felt.
It is the reason for insecurity, for mockery, for unnecessary pain.
The next time someone shows you sorrow, mend it with care
And know that it likely did not start with you.

When I was young my father said,
Be weary son of your awful head,
Filled with thoughts both old and wise,
And soft spots there for tragic times.

I looked at him and laughed away,
All worries then of impending days,
So joyous then was I the fool,
Who held fast to the golden rule.

Treat others fair so they in kind,
Would carry on with you in mind,
But left unsaid was another half,
Walk along the quiet path.

The one not filled with tired hearts,
Waiting for a gentle spark,
Of love, of joy, of precious things,
For they all hide a broken wing.

They’ll look to you to patch them up,
Longing for a gentle touch,
To grab ahold and leech away,
And leave to you a tired state.

Selfish little savior,
Cares too much for them,
Selfish little savior,
Who keeps it locked within.

Selfish little savior,
Who takes on all their woes,
Selfish little savior,
Or so the record shows.

Selfish little savior,
Who makes himself feel good,
Selfish little savior,
Who never understood.

Selfish little savior,
Who writes these empty words,
Selfish little savior,
In hopes of finding worth.

Selfish little savior,
Who always sits alone,
Selfish little savior,
Taking for his own.

Selfish little savior,
Finds meaning in the pain,
Selfish little savior,
Plays his little game.

Selfish little savior,
Who knows of little else,
Selfish little savior,
Helps others for himself.

I’d say that I love you,
But I worry in truth,
That I love you in plain-form,
Is nothing too new.

I could write about angels,
Who soar high above,
Who symbolize hope,
And feelings of love.

I could say that you are one,
And tell you it’s true,
That I think often always,
About me and you.

But I worry too much,
That it’s always cliche,
To say that I love you,
In just such a way.

So I take up a pen,
And dry out the ink,
Writing this way and that,
About what I think.

How I think you’re an angel,
Who soars high above,
On gentle white wings,
With a halo of love.

Or just how often,
Through the course of a day,
I lose all my breath,
When you take it away.

I could say all these things,
But it’s all so cliche,
So I tear up the paper,
With nothing to say.

In truth,
I speak,
To memories long a-go,
The ones I can-not see..

Those who,
Hold keys,
To my dear heart and so,
I,
Call out,
To thee..

I’m sor-ry,
For all,
That I have said to you,
Through these wil-ting years..

I think,
On you,
Sing-ing sorr-ow’s tune,
Still sadly,
Wai-ting here..

The years,
Have passed,
And you,
Are now,
Long gone..

How can I write about you fondly,
When I can’t  pen a good memory to your name?
The lies mix together with reality to mark the death of an angel and all I can say is I’m sorry.
I’m sorry there’s no love lost between the lines,
I’ve read between them all,
I beat myself up for not being able to write about an angel but the truth is I never had one to call my own,
So I’m sorry.
It feels like a lie to accent a painting,
A still-frame moment pictured in my head,
I’m sorry is all I’ve ever said and it’s fallen on deaf ears.
But how can I make anyone else listen when the words are years apart,
And I’m only trying to talk to you?
What would they say,
If they understood I was chasing a painted moment?
I’m sorry this is how I remember you.

And while we’re on the subject,
I’m sorry in advance,
That you ever had to hear this,
For giving it a chance.

But I’m sorry is what I say,
When I can’t say everything,
It’s the lie I use to paint over the truth,
With a better story.

It’s the half-truth of apologies,
Ringing hollow In reality,
You see I’m sorry is my defense,
It’s the difference between shy and confident.

I’m sorry is everything I meant,
That went unheard,
The words that couldn’t escape,
The critical mass of anxiety.

I’m sorry means listening,
To the words I didn’t say,
It’s my apology to you,
For me feeling that way.

But most of all,
I’m sorry is every opportunity missed,
Every time I wish I had the courage,
To speak a little more,
I’m sorry makes it out,
Before I even had a chance.

You ever think you’re tired of paradise? Honestly what’s the difference between here and the afterlife? It’s not like you’re trapped, you can go wherever you please, see what you want to see, honestly the only thing holding you back is earthly attachments. A job, a house, a car, there’s too many bat-**** people kicking it here waiting for the sequel like that’s gonna be better. Honestly ask yourself if the difference between here and heaven is a wealth of positivity why’s it so impossible for you to be happy down here? I think the answer is clear, you’re tired of paradise.

I’ve had enough of love,
The sitting around wondering what you’re thinking of,  trying to act like I don’t care when the truth is I just wanna be there next to you, I swear it’s true. from now on it’s just me and you so let’s put it all to a rest and give love our best guess at a first date, ‘cause talking to you is a gift I just can’t take, but when I do I feel like I need to wake up from a dream. I can’t even bring myself to think that maybe just for a second this is real, the way you make me feel got me second guessing at the best thing on earth, you make all the trouble worth it. I think calling it love is cheesy but in other words you’re perfect.

When all is silent I find myself sad. Not because I am alone, but because all I have to keep me company are memories of you. Memories of what was, the reality of what is, and the dreams of what could have been. In another life, being alone with you would be a happy moment, instead I am left alone with the silence of memories.

For you I would forget,
Like I did so long ago,
I’d cast my love of poems away,
The one thing that I own.

For you I would give up,
This gateway to the soul,
If it means that I’d forget,
Emotion’s heavy toll.

I’d let it all just melt away,
Like I did the first time through,
I’d do anything to replace your name,
With the face of someone new.

To whom it may concern, my friends and family who will no doubt wish to say goodbye, say it now, and I will hear you.

Say it now loud enough for me to hear and know how much I meant, say it now so we can smile in this moment together.

Say it now like you’ve always said it since forever and realize forever isn’t that long. Forever was a minute at 8, a block away at 10, and a mile apart at 12.

Forever away can be the distance it takes for a friend to realize they miss you, or it can be gone in a moment with one phone call.

Forever is all the time it takes to get from here to there until you blink. So if you ever find yourself thinking forever away is too far, take a look at where you are, remember how it took forever to get here?

Forever is always near so don’t you ever forget about the memories we made together, those are yours, forever.

Sometimes it’s the worst thing in the world,
The subtle death by silence.
To see you and another drift by years apart,
Or months or days,
When you live for the moments all too brief,
Where hello never means as much as goodbye.
Sometimes it makes me cry,
I shed a tear or two, and just a few more,
For the friends washed up on other shores.
I trace their names in the sand,
Never wanting to let them go.
I’m a sentimental fool,
Who lets his feelings show way too late.
But if I could I’d say it with all the feeling in the world,
Please don’t go...

If I’m being honest; I say that a lot. Maybe it’s because I can’t tell the real from the not. I can’t tell the difference between my thoughts and yours, but if I’m being honest; I’ve said that before.

I’ve said it all though; I’ve said hello and goodbye. I’ve seen good angels fall from the sky, I’ve seen a grown man threaten to die on a whim, from years of neglect because he said; nobody loved him.

I’ve seen a good friend, stay just to go. He turned to say “Sorry” met with “I know.” And with a sad joyous sigh, he walked out the door, saying goodbye; but I’ve heard that before.

I’ve heard all the sayings, the
“I love you’s”, “I do’s”,
followed by years of domestic disputes. I’ve heard that I’m nothing, I’ve felt like I’m less, and I’m sure that sometimes, I seem like a mess.

But I’ve seen from this life, all that there is. A small kind of greyscale, of hate and of bliss. I’ve seen of this place, all that I can, And if I’m being honest; I’ll see it again.

But before I do that I have to sort out, exactly the facts, from maybe the doubt, and stop saying the words like I’m afraid to be hurt. but if I’m being honest; I’m afraid it won’t work.

I’m afraid I’ll be stuck just trapped in my head, reluctantly writing the things that I’ve said. Talking of angels, of love, and of hate, I’m afraid I’ll be saying the same old cliches. And if I’m being honest; I think it’s too late.

If I’m being honest, I say that a lot. And if I’m being honest I don’t know how to say I love you because maybe it isn’t true anymore, maybe it never was. And on some level we both knew that, but I was still willing to try. I was still willing to give my heart away and shouldn’t that count for something more than a welcome mat? That overused tired old analogy everyone loves to say. Used every day by millions of people, isn’t that fitting? I show care for you, you spurn me and yet I still hold out hope. It isn’t fair you know? I’m so attached to this thing called a heart that if I don’t start listening to it I fall apart, but it’s you that made it this way, or me, I don’t know. If I’m being honest I can’t say I love you, but I can say I hate to.

To be honest, I thought I knew your story.
I thought I knew your struggles to a degree that’s hard to explain. The pain of knowing the world is not all it’s cracked up to be, I thought we were the same..but when I see you, when I finally take the time to step outside my head and away from thinking, I get the chance to see who you really are and I am stunned. There, in that moment the only thing that matters is you, and the truth as you know it, defined by your smile shines true in the end, every time I think I know you, you go and smile. So please, stay and talk awhile, I want to get to know you.