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Text her. Send her messages that she won't know how to respond to. she'll read them and put her phone down. Stare at the read receipt for hours until you realize she's not picking the phone back up, she doesn't have anything to say to you.

Eat lots of chocolate. It has serotonin in it, the happy chemical. When you cuddle with her, your brain releases oxytocin. As long as you eat enough chocolate (and throw it up) you won't miss the oxytocin one bit.

Bleed. When she tells you that she cuts herself, cut deeper. This is guerrilla warfare now, and for every shot fired you must fire back.

Read your messages. Laugh at the nicknames she used. "Princess". "Baby". "Darlin". You were never her princess, never her baby. She was the child and you were merely her plaything.

Make art. Write dumb poetry about falling in and out of love, take photographs of your ****** thighs, paint a picture using only shades of red. Let her figure out what all these things mean.

Drink. Green tea, *****, over-priced lattes. Stay up all night crying. Wear stilettos. Sit in art museums all alone and wonder if being a starving artist is as much fun as it sounds. Take long showers and harmonize with your favorite songs through your tears. Use heavier, blacker eyeliner. Spend time on yourself. Adopt a cat. But most of all, remember this:

You can only love one person. Choose yourself
how many emptied cups of coffee?

how many crumpled papers littering around?

how many broken bottles of beer?

how many cigarette stubs flattened on the ground?

how many stonewashed mornings?

how many sleepless nights, empty and dull?

how many will it take to forget you?

tell me, how many?
To write food in the stomach
Of every hungry child.

To spell war as peace,
Metaphorize flowers into the barrel

Of every gun on Earth.
The poet has responsibilities

Beyond those of mothers,
Of kings and presidents.

I refuse to give up hope;  
This could be a poem world.

Come on, write your worst piece
Of literature.

Even misprints may give other
Meanings to a word,

Write me a green sky, blue dirt,
Trees the colour of air.

Sometimes the best poets
Have the least to say,

So keep writing, write until your
Fingers fall asleep.

Write until you havent slept
For weeks in search of that word,

That one right word,
Then rest on a notebook pillow

And dream the world right.
Write the world right.

There is no such thing as
Wasted poetry.
 Feb 2015 Kill me slowly
Raven
I walked between the trees
And followed the path
of leaves, something
tugging at my
hand and
pulling at
my wrist
I looked to the sky as the branches covered the sun light
And I wished I could feel that tall
Not a care in the world
Not a problem at all
 Feb 2015 Kill me slowly
Raven
Trees
 Feb 2015 Kill me slowly
Raven
I wish I was raised by trees
They could love
Dance with me in the wind
The Fall would drop their leaves onto my head
So I'd know someone was there pouring happiness on to me
Walking through forests
Branches hand in hand
What a lovely thing
I just love trees
 Jan 2015 Kill me slowly
Raven
I saw down my finger nails with my palms hoping to find a future in there,
somewhere
But my tears never fail to slip through, closing up the seams
I bite my nails hoping to taste something more than a fake white smile
But I get seeping blood instead
And it still bleeds
 Jan 2015 Kill me slowly
Raven
She'd wipe words from her cherry lips
with a crumpled napkin just before
she spoke
Silence is isolation when all she hears
is noise
Anxiety is a tragedy withholding
her own self
She has no poise
and confidence doesn't come easily
when she's stranded in society
 Jan 2015 Kill me slowly
Raven
I'm not being selfish
just a little bit jealous
and a little surprised
you can't see it in your
own friends eyes
that when you talk about him
and he looks at you
I get a little terrified he likes you too
so take your paws off
stop digging your claws in
you're making me nervous
and a little bit jealous
but now he has your number
so have fun
me and him are now over
Not a great poem, but whatever
he always insisted
i needed something to believe in
     yet he scoffed
          attempted to laugh it off
when i promised that i built stonehenge
     and the great pyramids
    
     ground his teeth as i whispered
that the world found cuneiform by my hands

     and he dropped me off
when i elaborated on the day
i walked away from babylon's tower


so
     off he galloped forever
          destined never to understand the factual weight of one's dreams
zzzzz.


sleep sweetly, kittens.
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