i used to write poems about my love for you,
and now,
i write poems about the pain of losing you.
i used to be somewhat happy,
and now,
i cry myself to sleep every ******* night.
i used to spend every second of every day talking to you,
and now,
i spend every second of everyday hoping and wishing you will text me.
**you were the reason for my happiness,
and now,
you are the reason for my sadness.

He told me that I'm achingly silent
That it torments him
He stares, he waits
But no answer
Just watered black eyes gazing back at him

I said
That's because we don't mean anything we say to each other, anymore

I held you softly
as you slept
I held you gently
as you wept
I held you tightly
as you screamed
I stroked your hair
as you dreamed
I wiped the tears
that would not dry
I cried the tears
you would not cry
I took the demons
in your head
and made them
Mine instead
I need to be
by your side
don’t turn me away
I am not your Pride
I am not your Pity
I am not your Sorrow
I am here Today
I am your Tomorrow

Why can't you
be as
hopelessly in love
with me
as I am
with you?

Will you ever be,
or am I
a rock waiting
for the sun
to make
me a star?

If you could hug yourself,
would you do it?
For the pain you feel within,
is understood no better by others
than you.
Have you ever cried tears of blood
and felt that the heart is full of tears,
instead?
And you are still living,
questioning yourself,'is this existence or survival'?
Whatever it is, you don't care.
You see no difference.
You don't actually see at all.
You are blank.
Everything is black.
That black, which has every colour in it.
Will you be able to find a rainbow in it?
Will you be able to find a 'lost you'?
Will you recognize your own avatar?
Will you even try?
When you find 'yourself', what will you do?
Will you hug 'yourself'?

-@poetry_bhaskardhakal

I want my words to be beautiful.
Beautiful like yours.
I want to see ordinary things,
Find the magic in them,
And put the magic on a page, for everyone to understand.

I want to have a way with words.
I want every poem of mine
To become a masterpiece.
Just like yours.

I am not broken.

But you are.

You see the world through pain,
And pain makes the colors brighter.
It makes the value of feelings
Climb higher.

Sometimes I wonder
If I should be broken like you
If I want my words to resonate
Like yours.

Sometimes I wonder,
If it will be truly worth it
In the end.

I wonder what it will be like,
To cut myself up to pour out the beauty inside me.

Just like you.

I imagine that you
Raise the blade
Slice your feelings open
And write your masterpiece
In red.