Dear Hello Poetry Poet,

Hypocrisy
Is what you say
It's what you do
Everything I hear
In every "I. Love. You."

❤❤❤

You want her, You love her.
I want you, I love you.
You don't want me, You don't love me.
She only needs you, She doesn't love you.

You feel about her, The way I feel about you.
I feel your pain, I feel what you do.

The point of all this?
���

I show you sympathy and mercy.
Unlike you do for me.

So much hypocrisy
But it doesn't matter to me.

Cause as much as you say you love her, I love you that much more.
And as much as you say you'd do for her,  I'd do for you that much more.
❤❤❤

Now...
Tonight as you lay by my side, thinking about her while you're holding me tight and you find this letter here on Hello Poetry, I hope this may help you to understand,  that although I think you're an amazing man, you're hurting me like she's hurting you.

There's nothing left to say or do...
This hypocrisy is killing me and it's certainly not helping you...  

Just never forget about The Girl Who Loved You. ❤

Memories
Hazy as the clouds you don't reside under
My eyes thunder with the possibility of seeing you
And the mist is from the realization I never will

Black silhouetted are the dreams,
That scream at me through windows
Like widows
Begging for their lovers to come home...
All so beautiful...
Like petals on headstones
Or blood on snow...
Nightmares remind me
My life was never a show.
I remember triggers and barrels,
....
Screams and sparrows...

Blood spilled to keep blood concealed in the hearts I love
Are liters of my life well spent
The screams die down even in my own ears and silently I repent

The roses bloom,
In last winter's corpse.
Watch the strings on the loom,
They weave life's course.
Breathe in the same air ****** did,
Exhale the same breath Mother Theresa Had.
Accept the curse among the twigs,
For there are blessings to be had.
But never forget,
Any stone on that path.
Swallow regret,
We all wear a mask

**Carpe Diem

Midnight on I 80
passing by Truckee
heading East
towards the lights of old Reno.
The snow starts blowing
around Floristan,
Sierra Nevada
winter
following me
all the way down.
I'm looking for a big truck
to
get behind.

Riding on the crying road
every
Sunday night.

Wondering
if I am creating
gratitude or regrets
for
my future self's past.

What am I doing?

I left you on a January night
chasing love
in a blue moon light.
Stuck between desire
and
staying home.
I don't know what's true
what's true with me
what's true with you.

I'm stuck behind this wheel
snowy anxiety
ringing on through,
what am I doing?
what are you doing?

Creating
gratitude or regrets
for
your future self.
Will the adjustment bureau
come on through?
Or
will
I like you
make it all up as I go along
with the window steaming up,
Art Bell on the radio
Coast to Coast
the sounds of ghosts.

Will I hate myself
for
being my self
or
look back with eyes
sparkling with gratitude
and
the wonder of who I was
I doubt it,
don't you?

Now as I write this poem
with my life
together and asunder
will I look
back with gratitude
or regret?

As I hit Fourth Street
the clouds have parted
stars are shining through,
I'm no longer crying
the crying road is done.
I still do not know what I have begun.

the sunflowers gleamed
in the noon day sun
their flourish of colour
couldn't be out done

the sparrows flitted
above their ravishing visages
they were enchanted
by their dazzling mirages