If you could, would you
Trade all these words
For the peace of mind
That you never got

If you could, would you
Wipe off all your memories,
scars and lessons
And restart

if you could, would you
Let the heart give away its last beat
To some goodbye
You think should never exist

As to what I would do
I am not so sure
All I can do is sit and ponder
What might have happened

If I had chosen to let you go
When I still had it in me

You asked me once to write about you.
What would I write, though?
Words cannot capture your devilish grin
or the way your red hair shines.
Words can't tell of how you make me draw a breath
when you press your lips to mine.
Words do not begin to tell the story your eyes can with a simple glance.
Stories of regret and pain.
Stories that kept you from ever being the same.
I cannot find any words that would show the world
just how much you mean to me.
You are the moon and all the stars.
You light up my nights.
You are the sun, brightening my days.
You are every dream I have ever had
and every wish I have desperately whispered at 11:11.
You are more than any messy poem could ever convey.
Here is your poem, my darling.
I'm sorry it's not better, but the only words that even begin to explain how I feel are I love you.
I'm not sure how it happened, but I do.

Of all the things you mean to me,
I don't feel like we're best friends anymore.
There are too many unspoken truths between you and me;
Too many mixed up lies.

Now I want to tell you everything
I've been hiding for so long.
You've been here since the beginning.
Please don't forget me in the end.

Someday the light will guide you home,
And it'll click, move together, and you'll suddenly know
That even though you're tired and your heart has run cold,
Your soul is not shattered and you're not completely alone.

Ball my fists
And hunch my shoulders
Swinging wildly
Til knuckle meets boulder
Does the earth merit my blood?
Do my bones merit the mud?
My voice becomes a vessel for words reserved for sailors and such
And my belly a sloshy sloppy pocket of ***
Writhing is my skin
At the thought of him within
Alone with no means of defense
Where defense means offense
And offense brings a means to an end
But I'd rather not think on the end
As I'm only about to begin
So I make a fist
And swing
Until nerves breach the bone
And veins burst within
I've known splinters and flint
And broken glass on skin
I know what it is to go without breath
And drown in the sink
This is just another week