he approached me as the sky streaked pink
limping with tears streaming down his gaunt cheeks
he whispered to me under heavy breaths and groans
"someone cracked my ribs while I was asleep.
I woke up this morning only to find them broken
and marked with a delicate design of pain.
I shriveled and gasped and could not breathe
and I finally understand what you mean
when you speak of your depression."

The poet sits in lamplit gloom
alone in ebb and flow
how strange it seems to write of love
but never feel it's glow

A sigh, a lie, a broken heart,
a kiss on untouched skin
yet still this writers heart it sits
uncharted deep within.

The poet sits in lamplit gloom
and stares at paper bare,
then puts to it her broken heart
and leaves it bleeding there.

Why would I consider it
When never were you true
I never should reload it
And relinquish it to you
For surely would you use it
And still would I show surprise
At the sight of bridled malice
In such grey and lifeless eyes

The tools you used against me
Left scars across my mind
The will you took away from me
I happily resigned
A blame it hovers over you
But doesn't match your dress
If more I pile onto you
It seems I carry less

You placed such trust about me
And it grew too hot to hold
I dropped the warmth in front of me
And cursed about the cold
A shiver ran about me
Like a spider on my skin
My vision faded eerily
The room began to spin

Insanity beheld me
In my broken tepid form
It wrapped its arms around me
So comforting and warm
And showed me secret windows
Which no living eye should bite
With a light of truth above its head
It charged into the night

it is
not easy
to fit
in
a
world
you
do
not
fit
in
to
however
hard
you
try
its
best­
to
forget
and
move
on
sometimes

She is the brightest star
        in the night sky.
But in the morning,
        when the sun comes,
            
              *she is nothing.