i can't sleep.
it's your fault.

Yesterday, I felt like I mattered to someone
she remembered my name and my face
how I used to look and where I’ve been
she asked me about some things that
i barely remember, but she did
she’s unbelievably amazing
she saved my life back then
and she doesn’t even know
i had a perfect night
she saved me
once again
yesterday

*(s.m)

---

Some people are diamonds
Some people are stones
Some people are skulls
and some just bones

Some people are spiders
Some are flies
Some are snakes who
Hypnotize

Some people are roads
And some are ruts
Some people are vinyl
Who stick to your ****

Some people are weeds
Some are heather
Some people are just plain
nasty weather!

But you? You're special.
One of a kind
I love your poetry
Love your mind

There are many metaphors
Yes It's true.
But only one poetfriend...

... and that would be YOU!


SoulSurvivor
2/7/2015

you know when you miss someone so much
it’s like tsunami tides washing over you
and it almost hurts to breathe
you just stand there, not knowing what to do
overcome with emotions that makes you think of days long gone
and people that have walked away from you.

i didn’t expect you to be gone so soon—
i feel like our conversation is still hanging in the air
just waiting to be continued

i still have so many things to say to you
but i guess they’re going to have to be
left unsaid, forever stuck in my throat

sometimes i sit here with my heartache
raging quietly inside of myself
and i don’t know what to do with my hands
my chest feels tight
and i feel like i am drowning

i want this feeling to stop now but i know it’s going to take a while
so i just sit here and try to repress it
because i don’t want to let it overcome me.

Have you ever been afraid to write?
Almost like you don't want to feel what you would write about?
Yet at the same time you're craving it?

I want to write,

I want to write about the offset piece of sidewalk outside her house
     that I always managed to trip over no matter how many times I had
     before promising I would never trip again.
I want to write about how I would drive the long way to get to where I
     was going for months after we broke up just so I could pass the road
     leading to her house just to have a chance of seeing her, even if she
     never noticed me.
I want to write about how I'm afraid I'll never feel the static race down
     my spine when I kiss someone ever again because after she left no
     kiss has ever managed to spark anything inside of me.
I want to write about how I sat for hours on the ledge where we first
     kissed because I could let my tears fall down off the cliff like rain
     that I hoped would water the ground enough for a flower to grow so
     if she ever came back she would have something almost as beautiful
     as her to see there waiting.                                    
I want to write about how I now understand how Jesus could die for
     people who hated him because even though she hates me,
     I begged God to forgive her, because she knew not what she did to
     me.

But I don't write any of it,
Because I’m afraid to feel like that again,
Because It's pathetic,
Because I'm afraid she will see it,
Because it's not love,
It's poetry.

And no matter what her reply was,
it's still poetry.
And even though I don't love her anymore,
she’s still my stanza,
And I'm trying to find a new poem to write.