I don't think that people fall out of love. That if you truly felt that way, it never changes. I think many people feel lust, and lust fades. Love can't. Love changes with the seasons, but just like the sun, it doesn't simply disappear. I fell in love with you. As sad or naïve as it is, it won't ever fade.

For you are my stars, my moon and my entire night sky.

I met a girl with flowers in her hair
not a crown or a clip, but cherry blossoms
they bloomed from her ears and her scalp and the hollow of her neck
she was a garden of eden

I met a girl with flowers in her hair
and roots that ran all the way down through her feet
they never held her in place
instead, they made the earth upon which she stood her home

I met a girl with flowers in her hair
who let summer sunbeams catch her eyes
as they glistened among ferny tendrils
until the autumn came

The worst thing about being a poet
Is that you're drawn to pain
The pain and fear inspire
Great works and wonders
For those of us good with words

Some who are lucky
Can write well of all things happy
Those rare few

Most everyone I know
Write of pain
Pain and fear
Memories
Or we compare, criticize
This crap society of ours

Emotions fill us
We feel to the fullest
We might get scared
But it's not the pain we fear
We realize that pain leads us
Leads is to discover great rhymes
A nice flow of words
Words that help ease our minds

Borderline Personality Disorder.

1. The other day I woke up and thought I knew who I was
I fell asleep and somewhere in between I lost myself
I lost the feeling in my stomach too
but we're still talking about how much we have in common.

2. My sweater got stuck on the hanger this morning
I started to rip it down
eventually I broke plastic and skin.
I haven't been back in my room since.

3. 12:06 PM Today my best friend came home and took most of our makeup
12:07 PM I messaged her and mocked our friendship.
12:07 PM She was in trouble with her grandma and had to hurry. She didn't know.
12:08 PM I broke down crying.

4. I woke up at 7:32 AM and took 4 shots
drank 2 beers
smoked four bowls
drank half a bottle of NyQuil and woke up the next day.
I have yet to figure out why.

5. I wanted to be a horse trainer for 9 years
then I decided I wanted to be an artist
worked on becoming a tattoo artist
matured into a writer
fell in love with photography
now I'm not even sure if I like school.

6. First scars appeared at 9
worst scars at 15.
First attempt at 10
almost wasn't an attempt at 14.

7. I've been happy the past few days
but I still want to **** myself
because soon I'll be drowning in depression
and succumbing to anxiety.

9. Once I got so bored
I thought myself into sorrow.
I didn't come out for a few hours
but by dinner I was laughing.

10. I used to be in love with a boy
but I didn't know
so I used whatever I could get
and now I'm alone.
I don't blame him.

11. I've mentally lost myself
as I screamed into the mirror
and it wasn't me talking to myself.
I don't really remember being there
but I was.

Poets seem sad to me
Because we feel more
And we hold on tight
And when we hurt, we write

Our tears fall on paper
In the form of words
Thoughts in scribbled ink
As our hearts begin to sink

Other people's pain fades
And drifts away with time
But a poet's hurt will stay
There on the tear stained page

I've been seeing you in my dreams
pink sky and a cape
your smile is bigger than the moon
and wider than the ocean
you are breathing in flakes

I dreamed someone didn't let you say sorry
and you punched him over
and over
so that he'd know how it feels
to have an apology stuck in your throat

There was a night I told myself
your smile was just a mirage
and feeling every bump on the road
was just like making sense
of your breathing pattern

Then the time when I heard
the gap in your laughter
and realized it had lost its soul
when you forgot whose to mould it against
oh, the irony.

One dream had you walking barefoot
across a wooden bridge
you’d kicked your shoes into the sea

Suddenly you’re on a huge green field
making flowers die as you walk

I kept seeing you as lampposts,
a soft gentle presence in the dark
but always flickering
threatening to leave in a moment

There were the bruised hips
from the torrent of unspoken words
I decided I didn't want to keep

There was a postcard you sent me
with a return address that didn't exist
so I could write to nothing like I always have

The pillows with the tear stained blotches
hold reminders of every night
I tell myself I can make do
without seeing your eyes

And all these dreams I've had
darling
are from my veins
pulsing with visions of unrest

Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.

You were born with thunder rumbling from between your lips.
Your words were learned to be feared.
the promise of being trapped in the rain was too frightening for anyone to listen.

You were a flower that had begun to wilt,
covered by the shade of those towering above you,
and when they stole the last ray of light,
you learned to become your own sun.

Lightning shown in your golden-brown eyes.
Fierceness and a refusal to take any odds into consideration.
You struck hearts into beating again,
you struck minds into thinking again.

Your soul is a flood raging over hills. You are washing down every crevice of the world;
drowning and sweeping away things that will never measure to your strength.

You are a Californian wildfire.
Beautifully destructive and distinctively fearless.
You are crackling heat in valleys where thirst will never be quenched.
Don't be offended when they turn away,
some people just can't take the heat.

You have grown into a refusal to let the natural disasters inside of you sit still.
You have taken every ounce of nothingness that you felt and turned it into a brewing storm.
We will hear that thunder rolling from your lips this time.

Sonnets were written about your icy smile years before you were born.
Poets know the beauty of a powerful earthquake that could send cities crumbling,

Everyone knows the beauty of a powerful woman that can send worlds crumbling.

did you forget
holding me.
did you forget
the storm inside and the leaking windows;
i wasn't waterproof anymore.

did you forget the burn of fire in our throats
and the smoke we breathed.
did you forget the earthquake sending tremors through me.

did you forget how much it hurts
to have each nerve snipped
so you can hollow out some space for someone else
in your already packed-full chest.

did you forget
the hot summer sun and first love
and *****-stained dresses smeared with dirt.

did you forget the hard floor and the cricks
in our necks.
mine still hurts

it still hurts

I wish for the star to shine,
Yet it won’t glow for me,
Unlucky.



© Pax

I'm in the book you always open but never read