I keep writing about you
A lot of people say that my poetry is amazing and I have no idea why they say that
And I think it's because they're all about you, because you're ******* wonderful
But what you don't know and what they have no idea is that
I stare at the ceiling for hours
And my hands can't seem to move
Leaving my pen untouched and just having a blank page
Filled with no words about you or about love
Because all I feel is frustration and disappointment
Maybe I write these things but it actually doesn't come close to how I'm really feeling
But if actions could be expressed into words
I would write about how I should have hugged you for hours and convinced you to stay
How your favourite song just came up the radio, reminding me the first you made me listen to it
I would write about me standing outside the rain near the bus stop, thinking and replaying all the things you said to me, as I hide my tears from the rain
Then I realized I never had you
We were never official
I would write about the burning fire from my heart as it start to burn because of how much I miss you
and how the burning flakes have reached my brain at 3 in the morning thinking about how I miss your voice and how I crave your presence
And then I remember being up so late was only that much fun when you were still around, with our deep talks & late phone calls
I wish every ******* day that you were still here
And I don't know how to end this writing because there is no poetic way to say and describe how I feel so empty and that I just want you back
But what I know is that I'll never let go

I remember staring at you. I would marvel at how great you were. How your broad shoulders would push back when you'd walk. How you would laugh with such passion. How you tucked your bottom lip in when you cried. You were not only the love of my life but my best friend. I feel you in the when the wind blows through my hair, mimicking your fingers. I feel you when I look over the city at night, I remember sitting on the edge of the observatory, talking about what else could be out there. I feel you the most when I looked at the sky. You were my sky. I see your eyes in the stars, gleaming, hoping to find meaning in why God has done these merciless things to you.  
  -C.M.

I still have that image of your lifeless body lying in that hospital bed
Some days I can't get it out of my head
When your mother sees me she cries
I can't help but ask why
Her eyes blood shot
Her head a mess
I remember she looked down and said
It should've been me instead