Drunk on love,
&& some cheap boxed wine.
I do this all the time;
Why do I do this all the time?

There are 37.2 trillion cells
in the human body
Yet somehow,
you're coursing through
every last one of them.

I push people away constantly,
For fear of ever
Falling in love with them.

The heart always wants
What it cannot have,
A far away lover
From a far away land.

All I'm left with are these words,
Which shall forever
remain unspoken.

I'll just carry on in denial,
Pretending I'm not
Heartbroken.

If my outer layers are perfectly
placed together,
Can anyone tell that
my insides are shattered?

Bruised && battered;
Does it really matter?
Does any of it matter,

To you?

This one goes to the real poets.
To those who decide to carry the world on their own.
To those who carry hell in their head and a graveyard of lost love stories in their heart
To the brave ones who fight darkness with darkness.
Tho those who the only answer they seek from a god is if there's eternal life for their loved ones, because they know there's no space for them in that paradise.
To those who know that suffering is the most humane feeling there is.
To those who loved and hated the wrong person.
This goes to Lorca isolated, hiding in a closet in New York.
To Unamuno craving to believe in something impossible.
To Quiroga drinking the poison of his sorrow at a hospital.
To Becquer and Espino for dying so young.
To Neruda for cheating on himself so many times.
To Machados' lost spirit.
To Marquez and his melancholic ******.
To Poe's tormented soul and his raven.
To Shakespeare and his Juliet.
To Dante and his story of woe.
This goes for the only beings who can live with a hell inside of them, and still manage to write heavenly things for those in need to read.
This one's for us.

gone into the deepest part
of summer sunshine
where i was blinded to my own heart
all that i have whispered to the darkest of night
hoping to hear answers unique

desperation has no cure
except in the mirror of the minds eye
where the wet soul hungers for light
where the better angels of loves delight wait
like brides to be on wedding mornings
the day dancing before them in beautiful eyes

wait now for the words to come
as easy as they once did
as right as rain
soft wet warm

i have gone into that deepest part of
summer sunshine
i found it while brushing my lips
across the freckles on her shoulder
like a roadmap to heaven
tasting of such bedroom intents
soothing the soul like a dark wine
in moonlight

i have gone into the deepest part
of summer sunshine many times before
lost there in the sweetest moments of deranged thought
where there is no fear
where there is no tears
only the whisper of my lips
on the freckles of her shoulder

Truly, at the end of the day only kindness matters

my mouth hung open
like the door
a small draft entering
this empty room
like my small exhale
leaving the shell
of my body
it clung to the thought of you
like a locust to the tree
my vacant form
crumpling in the wind

he called me pathetic for loving him.
for caring about him.
he said that i should be over it.
he said that i should've moved on a long
long
long
long
time ago.
but i didn't stop caring.
i can't stop caring.

i called him pathetic for not learning to forgive
for not learning to forget.
i told him that he should be over it.
that he should've moved on a long
long
long
long
time ago.
but he didn't forget
he can't forget.