I write and dream up new ways
To say and cry out old things
Utilizing the strings that can be tugged
That attach to inner most hopes
Hopes that feed dreams and needs
All of the things that can hurt
As they have done and I endure alone
I use these words that hold meaning
To tell the world how it is for me
To share with others that may comprehend
I write to post and pretend they reach you
But if they ever do is it just words
Or is the emotional message conveyed
I write to pretend that someone is listening.
I write to acknowledge the truth of loves cost
And to exercise my restless wants and longings
These are my chosen words
My means at giving feeling to the way one reads them.
My message to someone I know never sees or reads
The way it is to see or feel
Or love and want what cannot be
I write because I need to,  
Feel, to be, to eat, breathe.
I write because.

When poets die
It's sad and true,
It matters not
What their bodies do,
The spirit flies
To Poet's Corner,
In Westminster Abbey.
You'll not see
Busts or inscriptions
For all the poets
Whose spirits linger
Alongside Chaucer, Browning, Spencer,
And a myriad of authors.
Dead Poet you have earned your share;
Dead Poet I will know you're there,
Composing in the Laureate's lair.

My child,

As you watch your worlds get torn apart
With a malevolence you can’t comprehend,
Please do not throw yourself into the crossfire,
This is a war you cannot mend.

Their anger is too deep-rooted,
Their hurt is much too strong,
They will insist on going down fighting,
And refuse to see where they are wrong.

Find shelter from this constant storm,
Please close your eyes and ears.
They won’t listen to your pleading,
They choose not to see your tears.

Your screams won’t penetrate their spiteful resolve,
Your little voice will go unheard,
You have no choice but to be strong now;
A responsibility so undeserved.

My child, you cannot help them
As they stand firm on this battle site.
You must know this will be one of many,
There is too much wrong to put right.

If they could see how their bellowing makes you recoil,
See you cowering on your knees,
They might take heed of the damage they’re wreaking,
Reconsider this incessant, vindictive reprise.

But this road is far from ending,
So don’t exhaust your resilience here,
You must protect yourself from the barrage,
For they have not the strength to shield your fears.

It will be another long and tiresome night
As you are again dragged through this mess,
Processing all of their vicious accusations
For all that they refuse to confess.

So as you watch the two people you revere the most
Spit venom at volumes you can’t stand,
I beg you not to let it make you hateful -
This is not what they had planned.

I know how you long to fix it,
Desperate to appease their pain,
But my child, too much has already been broken,
Just please know you are not to blame.

I wish I could offer an escape route,
Tell you everything will be OK,
But there is no choice except to ride out this bitterness,
Await the dawn of a new day.

And on that day you’ll find a way to forgive them,
For destroying everything you knew as home,
For their selfishness stealing all innocence
And turning safe places into war-zones.

--
is a ***** liar
  that insists things were
  better than they  seemed.
--

And I've seen what that kind of love can do to people. I've seen it shred their insides apart , I've seen it set fire to eyes once calmed of storms.

I've seen that kind of love make people blind to what's right in front of them. To the idea that maybe they're , the only ones , who think happiness can be bottled up and kept for the rainy days.

It's agonizing. Really.

Watching someone become so consumed by a feeling that it takes away the common sense it takes to notice that things aren't right.
That kind of love , it chews you up , spits you out , and gargles just to be sure the very last taste of you is gone.

That kind of love.

The kind of love that isn't ready to meet you on the bridge but fools you into jumping off the edge with your eyes closed.

That kind of love.
The kind of love everyone should be afraid of.

You are the decadent wine I crave
dark as blood but savory of taste
I took one small, curious sip
and drowned in the sweetness of your grip

You are the mirror I refuse to see
reflect all that truly embodies me
even if I shy away from a glance
you make me want to take that chance

You are the words that flow from my head
out of my soul, straight through to my pen
a muse that truly inspires my art
just by slowly opening your heart