the contour of your brow was made for me,
for me to press against my lips as I breathed your scent.
when memories of us surface, I must willfully forgive.
but sometimes I'm lost in one of those pure moments -
and it overtakes my senses
and no time has passed
and I feel your skin
and smell your hair
and feel the yawning space in my chest where my love was so sweet it was cliché

What is your fear—that you are not
beautiful?
The valley's are jealous, my true.

The story is truer than you will
not know,
trailing roots in the rivers of snow.

The patterns of sand the Sahara
makes by hand
can't grasp your vexing shape.

And it is your heart I so found in
the dark,
nestled stark in the moss of a cave.

What is your fear—that they will not
love you?
Be patient once more, my sky.

The moon will deceive you to thinking
that so,
but—listen, my love—not I.

i saw you today,
all facts became clear
the same as hopes faded out

i wanna dig deep
but there's a hard rock beneath
and covers every possibilities

roses and tulips are waiting
but time transcribes them to death
and waiting, anymore cannot be an option

I hear a voice.
I'm not crazy...
Or am I?
The voice is persuasive.
Persistent.
A constant in my pitiful life.
It laughs at me.
Tells me I'm worthless,
No one cares,
I'm a coward for not having done this sooner.
And this time, it tells me,
There's nothing to stop me.
No reason left to be alive.
The voice taunts me.
Laughs at me.
Convinces me
That I'm pointless,
And to run the knife across my wrist,
To accidentally cut myself shaving,
To climb onto the roof
And jump
Or hang myself,
To overdose,
To drown myself in the bathtub
Would be a great idea.
People would be glad.
And now, I hear another voice.
Yup, I'm crazy...
Right?
This voice is quiet,
Kind, as opposed to the first.
It reminds me
I am here for a reason.
The voice has a plan for me,
It knows I'm worth it,
After all, it created me.
The voice reminds me of the peole who care.
Screaming, the first voice leaves,
But promises he'll be back
As I give the second voice my full attention,
And decide to live another day.;

each word now
comes harder
than
the
last

this poem
is an admission
of my
strife

voices fill
the air
around me
and yet,
my voice
can barely
whimper

Tomorrow's promise of good
Is lesser in value than
Today's definite good
I ponder
I wonder
Why would anyone ever
Think that tomorrow's shaky promise
Is better than the alluring
Wonderful
Sights to see today?

Today is good and life is good
Why don't people think that way?

It shouldn't hurt
It shouldn't burn
But it does.
I shouldn't be mad
I shouldn't be depressed
But I am.
You shouldn't speak
You shouldn't influence
But you do.
Love shouldn't survive
Love shouldn't capture
But love does.
My mind shouldn't justify
My heart shouldn't hope
But they do.
So where does that leave... us?