i. Cut your heart open
Take a knife, twist your heart open. Watch as everything you have bottled up
spill on the floor. Break it into pieces and trample on the glasses. Listen to
what it’s trying to tell you. Uncover every hidden desire and side-swept secrets.
For once in a long time, be honest with yourself. You’ve spent so much time
locking everyone out. You’ve even kept your own identity from yourself. This is
how you start writing a poem: Cut your heart open, be honest with yourself.

ii. Give yourself the freedom to feel
Face yourself. Touch your reflection if that’s what makes you real. Remind
yourself of your inner core and get rid of your inability to feel. For so long
you’ve masked the pain, ignored the numbness and forgot about the rain.
Feel the anger running in your veins because of all the time you’ve wasted
on someone who never deserved your love. Let a river’s load of tears gush
out your eyes, feel the despair of how you have loved but lost. Feel the loathe
you have for yourself because you’re so pathetic; because no matter what
you’d do anything to have him back. Clutch your chest as you feel the
physical ache in your heart because it’s broke and distorted in a way
it’s never been before. This is how you make a poem great: Give
yourself the freedom to feel, share with the world your raw emotions.

iii. Take the bitterness and turn them into pretty words
Take a paper and pen. Translate the way you feel onto a clean sheet of paper.
This is the only time you’ll ever have a clean start again. Take all the words
you have at the back of your mind and write them down. Let the pain and the ache,
the anger and the hurt, make their way on the paper. Don’t think too much
about it, the words you have they’re all who you are. Tell the story you’ve
kept in for so long and let them glide from the pen through the paper. Write
all you think that is necessary. Don’t think about what people will say. Because
a poem is a poem, it’ll be bitter and pretty. That’s the glory in the poem, it’s
ambiguity. This is how you write a poem: You stay bitter yet it will come out
pretty. No matter the bitterness, you always have the ability to make it pretty.

You were my little hometown,
somewhere I could stay forever,
somewhere I could grow old in,
somewhere I was content.

I was your little hometown,
somewhere you grew up in,
but wanted to leave in the long run,
somewhere you were never content.

We used to sit by the pond,
and talk about the future,
I talked about ours
but you talked about yours.

We lie under the stars,
realizing how minute we were,
I got lost within the galaxy in your eyes,
while you never took notice of mine.

If I told you that I loved you,
(which I never did)
I know it’d never cross your mind,
to tell me you loved me back
(because you never did)

In your eyes, I was just your little hometown
Stranded in the middle of nowhere,
Somewhere you’ll never reach far.
In me, you thought you’d never make it anywhere.
So just like every protagonist in every story ever told,
you ditched your little hometown.

We're only two of infinite stars.

Burning with desire,
Lusting after passion.

Caressing in the dark,
we were never a walk in the park.

Hidden and burdened,
a love that is forbidden.

No use in wishing on 11:11's,
flick away those fallen eyelashes.

A love made of tragedy,
imprinted on the stars.
Desire and passion,
ready to start a war.

Two of infinite stars,
part of different constellations,
a love, if that's what this is,
ending in entire damnation.

We're only two of infinite stars.
What made us think
we were meant to be from the start?

We're only two of infinite stars,
existing in a universe that's bound to keep us apart.

You taste like love
As our swollen lips dance
Under the gleam of the moonlight

The sweetness of each kiss
The sweat sticking between our skins
The lust lingering in the air
But the love staying there

Rip my soul and wipe me clean,
let me know I'm not just another tragedy.
We push and pull, I know I'm a fool.
Fighting and scratching,
for a game I'll lose.
Hang me from a tree,
my feet dangling high above the ground,
be careful, I tell you, don't make a sound.  

Whispering in hushed tones,
they only ever talk to me when I'm alone.
You aren't worth it, they say.
I'm better of dead, I say.
Let the voices in my head, swallow me whole
Nothing's left of me, I'm trap in a deep hole.

No one ever cares, unless you're beauty
Or dead.
Take one step further,
an inch closer.
Falling from the cliff,
gravity didn't seem as heavy as it did.
I'm flying, flying.
Out of consciousness,
I'm dying.