you've perfected
the maze
to my
heart.
but the way out,
I'll be surprised
if you
find your
way.

             d.s.

but how can I move on
when your fingerprints are
still on my heart
and your voice still
resonates down to my toes
and your smile lives
in my eyes and
every time my mind wanders
it goes directly to you

I don't have thoughts
I have words.
I have phrases
Ideas,
Sentences
And different combinations of 26 letters.
I have songs and
Poems
And words that were once said
My mind is just a pad of paper
But what I don't have are thoughts.

She thought the world was going to end.
So she climbed the tallest building she could find, ran up the nearest set of stairs.
She didn't even acknowledge the elevator a few steps away.
When she got to the roof access door, she opened it without hesitation.
She blocked out the sound of the fire alarm loudly trailing behind her determined strides.
She ran towards the edge of the building,
All while tears streamed down her face.
She reached the short protective ledge
Her hands trembled as the grabbed the top
But that didnt stop her from hoisting herself onto it without delay.
She didnt even stop to think
She knew her intention.
She didn't turn back.
She jumped from that ledge in a heartbeat
All while the traffic that was once below her feet,
goes about their day
Because the world kept spinning
and it didn't end for anyone.
Except for her.
But her world had already collapsed
It only ended when she jumped

The only sound I hear
Is my heart beat in my ear
And the steady tick
Of an analog clock
Behind me.

I’m not really sure if I’m me anymore.
I’m addicted to things I’ve never even done before.
I often find myself craving a cigarette,
Or just a bottle of Jack Daniel’s Whiskey.
I miss that feeling of sneaking out and walking the streets at night,
But that’s something I never have done.
I miss that feeling of holding a gun and pulling the trigger,
the sound as it makes as it backfires.
But I’ve never shot a gun before,
I’ve never smoked a cigarette,
I’ve never even seen a real bottle of whiskey,
just the ones displayed in bars.
But yet this urge, this “I could really use one of those right now” it’s the feeling of an addict.
I’m not an addict.

But yet, I could really use a cigarette right about now.