A wonderful evening I spent, trying in vain
(Wonderful, for I was alone with the sound of rain)
To find a word that would describe you,
And by some luck rhyme with 'pain' (that’s my pain) too.
Though I had my doubts about what I stood to gain,
Devoting my precious loneliness to your memory;
I understand now it was a hope that you'd someday see
That we could have been happy, if for once you believed me.

I honestly can't even write decent poems. I do not deserve the privelige of being regarded as a poet, I am a disgrace to all of us. I apologize

At first, I hated the feeling of emptiness. I hated not feeling anything yet feeling every possible emotion at the same time. I felt caught and I didn't like it at all. It was so unfamiliar, I just didn't know what to do with it. But as time went on, I began to realize that, despite the unfamiliarness of it, it somehow felt more comfortable to be in that emotional state than other past one I had been in. It felt like home. Although the feeling of emptiness did comfort my aching soul in some twisted, masochistic way, it did not mask the pain or stop the suffering. It simply made me hurt in a different way. A way far less painful, yet far more detrimental. A way which became addicting. And little did I know, that over time, the pain would soon fade away and become nothing more than a mere scratch below the surface as the emptiness would soon be accompanied by an everlasting numbness. These two together, unknowingly at first, made a fatal duo.

Absent from all but the faintest of feelings
again I stare out of a window
its frame imprisons my soul
a fathomless stare into an obscure distance
as if I might somehow occupy that space
old photographs scattered on a table
yet I can no longer see your face
has it really been this long ?
minutes, days, weeks, months and now a year ?
the spirits took your warm embrace
so cold under the ground
know this my sweet sweet thing
the old roots now hold your hands
but you are forever embraced by my spirit
eternally dancing to our sad refrain
under the moonlight in the pouring rain.

She wants to be noticed and seen
he see's only from within himself
mascara tears run down her face
black streams that reflect her soul
he see's nothing but a flickering screen
she recoils into a lonely asylum
sanctuary for the lonely hearts
lesser things are left unspoken
echos of the voices inside her head
he see's everything but is blind
she see's nothing but the void.