**** is running in rivulets
into this keyboard, pouring
from the ends of my fingertips,
and it paints these words brown.

Just like my eyes.

Can you smell it?

I want to talk about us being married one day, but I do not dare dream about that possibility of us being together forever because you are not of the same faith. And we should have never shared those kisses between the hour hands

watery things dropping down my cheeks
a tapped maple tree perhaps am I?
Crying sweet sugar feelings
for someone I don't even know to eat.
I want to feed the future,
be a syrup on hungry children's plates,
be a waffle on the worlds staged dripping,
tears of change, sweet and love, syrupy so lame,
yet emotionally, caring .

There's something about reading poetry in the dark that reminds me of you.

Just like the seasons you became colder with time
The boy who used to be filled with warmth was now an icy block of self loathing
and I couldn't bare the biting way you looked at me when I said I didn't love you back
I made you cold and stole your warmth
I'm sorry
and if you were to **** me I would not blame you
I can only blame myself
And if your life were to end by your own hand
I would feel soaked in your blood
because I was to blame for your death
and I'm sorry
There are so many words in my head
and some just aren't enough