It's the color of the sky was when we made love in the meadow with only the constellations watching and your eyes were shining with desire.

Before you caged my heart, took the key and tossed it into blazing fire.

It's the shade of the ink I used to write you the one thousand and one love letters which remain stacked on my nightstand

It's the coffee I sip each morning before the sun rises as I stare out the window, reminiscing about the days when my smile was genuine and constant memories of us didn't burn my fingertips

It's the cloud of darkness that trails me as I stumble helplessly, trying an escape from the gloomy prison also known as my mind

It's the ashes that bind together to form my aching soul, ever since the single reason that once kept my feet planted on this planet and my lungs from disintegrating has disappeared

It's the material that sticks to my skin  as I mourn the girl I once was, for that carefree and free spirit is six feet under with the ground and hopefully heaven bound

And last but not least, it's the last thing I will see when I reach the point where I can longer cope without you and I've have enough of the demons thrashing in my head, because with the simple click of a trigger, everything will be red.

Z.D.L

her arms are slightly less chubby than mine
her ***** are slightly perkier
i have a slightly prettier face
she has slightly nicer clothes.
and though her smile is crooked and snaggle-toothed
and her eyes carry black bags
and her hair is the color of straw mixed with mud
she must be slightly better than me
because he wanted her
slightly
m
o
r
e

Her beauty shrouded,  
Her personality hidden,  
In crippling anxiety,  
From which her depression is driven.  
Her true self,  
Only to be shown in flashes of happiness,  
Small moments of laughter.  

All the while,  
She's so ******* herself,  
Her emotions contagious,  
Infecting me the more I see them.    

It's ridiculous,
Emotions that are not mine,
Overwhelm me,
Her sadness drives me crazy,
And yet she suppreses them,

What is killing me,
Multiplied by a hundred,
Can only be seen,
After staring into her eyes.

I’m falling desperately for pieces of you,
and all of you at the same time.
I know I’ve stumbled in so deep,
but there’s still more for me to find.
If you’d like you can call me a fool,
and I’ll be as foolish as they come,
but that still won’t explain how
your eyes make me go numb.
I’m keeping every little bit,
because I can’t bear
to let it go.
The subtle curve your soft lips make
when they hear me say your name,
and the freckle on your collarbone,
your right, my left.
I think of how I feel so much more than skin
when you simply brush against me.
Your hand in mine.
My left, your right.
This isn’t a poem,
it’s a 3 am conversation on your basement couch
and a quiet night spent on the bench next to the lake.
I can never write poems about you,
because it’s impossible to write a poem
about poetry itself.