Sometimes (most of the time),
The title takes more effort than the poem.
If you're inspired, your pen moves your wrist
Faster, almost, than the brain can think of sentences.
And even when you're not inspired, when you've got writer's block,
You manage to think of a topic and away your talented self goes.
Then there's the title.
Do you want it to be simple or eye-catching
To the point of forcing people's eyes to read more?
Will you use a line from the poem,
Perhaps a word that sums up the general mood?
Or are you like me?
Do you want to think up a word combination
That probably doesn't exist anywhere except your poem?
Are you urging your brain like whipping an already-galloping horse
To think up a word far beyond your vocabulary skills?
I can write a poem in ten minutes,
And spend a week waiting for the perfect title.
Sometimes it never comes, but when it does,
I often love the titles more than its content.

Toluene*

He is a truly sublime being,
his "I love you's" like
sticky notes, stickers,
every embrace leaves
an imprint on my arms,
every kiss clings to my tongue
until I taste him again,
His love, an adhesive,
a sudden wallop of rapture
flowing through each
cremation chamber,
making my heart hum hum hum
a little faster faster faster
love knows no punctuation

- Crimsyy

We order a mushroom-cheese omelet

Now see you’re the kind of guy who eats jam on toast
And I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t eat toast as all
So when the plate comes, I give you both pieces of toast
And you spread the strawberry jam on it
While I’m busy cutting the omelet in half
But before taking a bite of anything
We both pick up a hashbrown simultaneously
As if somehow we’d planned the entire thing
And we both take a bite of it and
We love it
It’s cooked to perfection and potatoes are my weakness
Back to the omlet though,
So I’m not that great at cutting
And the omelet cut unevenly in half
So you take the smaller piece
Even though you’re bigger than me
And I steal the bigger piece
Even though I’m smaller than you
And you eat your half in three bites
While I’m struggling with mine
And the string cheese is caught somewhere between
My fingers, my mouth and the plate
And it takes me a while to eat
About twenty bites in, there’s no way I can eat more
So I ask you to eat what’s leftover
I guess I should have given you the bigger half to begin with
But I guess that’s just how we work
Where you’ll always take the smaller portion
But end up eating most of the food
Because I’ll always take the bigger portion
And leave most of it untouched
You eat my leftovers in two bites
And the coffee arrives
I almost knock over your espresso
While reaching for the complimentary cookie
I eat my cookie
And then I eat half of yours too
And by this time I’m pretty full
But I see a sign for a free cookie
And I want it
You don’t really care for it but you laugh
Because you haven’t seen me want anything as bad
As the cookie (it's free!)
And so you get me the free cookie
And I’m too full to eat it
So I put it in my bag
Very proudly; it’s my success for the day
I finish my Americano faster than you finish your single shot espresso
So you give me a sip of yours
But you drop a few drops on me
And now my pants look like they have blood stains
And I smell of espresso
And you’re trying to clean it with a tissue
But the waiter thinks we’re doing something naughty
So I tell you to stop
And even if we were doing something naughty
Who’s the waiter to say anything anyways
Anyways
So we finish out coffee and we call for an uber
And my pants are stained
And I’m carrying my cookie
And I don’t think I’ve ever been happier
While we wait for the uber
You steal my glasses
And you try them on
They look funny on you
I like them on you
I think I like you
And you can’t see anything
And I can’t see anything either
Except for your outline
That’s enough for me
So the uber comes
And he calls us
And we’re leaving
At the counter you pay
And I see a Nutella cookie in the window
I want it
But you just paid for breakfast
So I’ll keep quiet
We sit in the car
And I put on pomegranate lipbalm
And I give you some too
Your lips look nice and soft now
And I think today has been a really great day
And I think you fit me well
Because you love toast and I leave toast
And it works out
(except for that baked tomato no one ate)
But look the point is
Is that we work
Well.
And we squish in the back of an uber
And guess what?
The seat was made for two.

We ordered a mushroom-cheese omelet
It was a good day

i've had a flu for the last week and a half i can't sleep at nights anymore because i can't breathe but i haven't taken any medicine because i want to fight it myself i want to fight this myself i am stronger than these pills and i will fight with my own body my own strength i will go down fighting i cannot rely on external substances i cannot rely on something or someone to save me i have to save myself i HAVE to save myself i have to save myself save myself save myself it's my mantra: I HAVE TO SAVE MYSELF and i'm thinking of the time my luggage was wrecked and my purple lamp was in there and that lamp was a memory because i remember you turned it on while you lay on top of me so that you could see me just a little better (i wanted it dark so that i didn't have to see myself) you wanted to see the curves on my body because you loved me and i can see you infront of me right now while i type this there in those black jeans with your broad shoulders and your mouth just a little softer than my own and just like that lamp my love was wrecked and it came back in more than two pieces the ocean just wasn't kind enough wasn't soft enough it didn't care enough to transport my love with the care it needed and tell me do you remember the time i screamed save me no wait get away from me save me love me get away from me and you touched me then moved back because you didn't know what i needed you didn't know how to save me but you knew how to love me. that was enough. it was enough. you were enough. enough. enough.
and just like the pills i refuse to take you were that drug i was too scared to need and that dependency broke me and that fear is breaking me and i love you enough for the both of us but like that purple lamp i'm just a little broken and i'm fighting to light up the room and see things just a little clearer and on my way back from school today i saw the electric boxes with warning signs and i opened the car door and walked to them and i tried pulling the 440 volt wires to touch them and fry myself; maybe i'd light up then but someone saw me and i ran and i ran to my house and my mom doesn't know that i'm suicidal but that's okay because i don't have the guts to **** myself anyway *(but i tried today).

I'll try my hardest to refrain from mounting this phony high pony and preach to you,
and to keep from using ******* rhymes and fancy lines that do little more than convolute the truth,
but the fact remains that there's a certain amount of irony inherent in all things,
and I can see it clearly raging inside of you.

Blah blah blah.
These and other platitudes.
You're struggling and you're sad and you're lost and confused.

Don't you realize that you're just climbing up and sliding down the eternal staircase that the rest of us have already grown accustomed to?

Of course not,
and that's why you're smart.
Giving up on the race before it even starts.

What do you want?
No, really.
Out of life,
out of love,  
with hell below and the stars above,
where exactly are you aiming for?

You don't even know,
and somehow,
that's what makes it beautiful.