I try to climb
to the peak
of Mount Enough
but never
seem
to get there
in my mind

the clicking of the keys
spells out
the beat of the heart

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

My mind is full
Yet my page is empty

-Writers Block

I miss being a crayon
when I had the certainty
of being liked by them
the fantasy so believable
that I believed it with all my heart

I miss being a crayon
when she and I laughed together
created together
shared our thoughts, quotes, and ideas
together

I miss being a crayon
when we had moments of
unity
collaboration
laughter that I could easily
be a part of

it was nice

I miss being a crayon
but now I am a pencil
less colorful
wavering
able to be whittled
and sharpened
and full of potential

You took my heart
and ripped it in two
because everything
you said about me
was true