Notice the burning of a cigarette leaves a lifeless hollow shell
Just like a star
Just like the me you know so well
It,
Leaves behind ashes,
Leaves behind dirt,
Leaves behind lashes,
Leaves behind hurt.
Just like the burning of a cigarette leaves behind air so toxic
A burning star like me, will leave behind such losses.

there will only be two things that will happen to you:

either you end up in my poems of heartbreak, remorse, and sadness,
or,
you end up beside me with my hand in yours.

Beauty is fleeting
It's very misleading
Expectations never meeting
Forceful in greeting
Her heart I'm seeking
She says she's needing
Room for her breathing
Made her my everything
But she's always leaving
She just isn't seeing
The friend I'm being
I'm left here bleeding

There are thousands of us here
In this small part of the internet.
We are thousands,
Voices of all natures.
I wonder how many in all
The corners of the world?
Here alone are thousands
Which plant seeds of philisophical change
And the evolution of our society.

How many words will it take
To declare the state of humanity
As the world goes deaf and blind?

Every once in a while I see a poem
With a national headline,
Some black kid shot by a white cop.
Then the poem disappears,
The poet and his or her fellow
Writers retreat inward
Jumping into nothingness
Of feelings and self loathe.
We carry a banner with a million
Words and nothing to say in unision.
Oh God, is this the path of the poets?

But suddenly I realise
And I see I am just as shallow
As the next,
The pulse of the world will not
Beat with poets,
Though poets can be the racing pulse
Of change.

Let the poets unite on common ground!
Cry out against something in unision.
We are thousands of voices
That cannot yell.
How many of us here on the internet?

How hard is it to rise against
The machine and bring
About change truly to the soul,
To see ourselves rise up
With our words?
What we speak we will write,
What change we write
Will give birth to humanity.

She knew love was just a safe place
To fall apart
To trust the hands
That bend you
And see pretty even without the sun's shine
Love was holding you in the dark
And being afraid of happiness
Lest it be taken away for being too much
Love was the realisation of having so much skin
After it became coordinates of every part you touched
Love is the story of how she pleaded with a map
As she measured oceans with the length of her fingers
And moved entire forests that came between you