Poetry is dead
when you are not here
to write it in my heart
when your voice is too far away
to read it.

Poetry is dead
when your allure is feeding
strangers' souls on the streets
while I am here alone,
my soul starving.

Poetry is dead in all my being
I feel its ghost leaving my brains
I feel the emptiness inside
and I fear the days
when it will come haunt me
and I won't find a way
to write it.

Sleeping at night it's impossible
cause I hear a question screaming in my chest

When poetry is dead
is there anything out there
left
*alive?

When the sun and the moon
Collide in the sky
When blood drops,
Are the only tears I cry
When snow flakes
Fall in the middle of June
When the sound of silence
Remains the only tune
When the fish sprout wings
And fly from the sea
When the only thing standing
Are petrified trees
When the sky loses its color
And is no longer blue
That, my sweet, is when
I'll stop loving you

In a ***** roadside bar
lonely drunks remember themselves
briefly
they've experienced loss
like us
and once a week are invited
onto a damp little stage
under a flickering light
to say something
as a reminder
of their existence
in the middle of nowhere
like a wandering ghost
in an old motel

Poets say how beautiful it is
that the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shore
no matter how many times it is sent away

How chasing thunderstorms can make you feel so alive
that sometimes you forget you are in the path of a hurricane.

This is how we fall in love
This is how we fall apart

This is the burning flame
This is the burst balloon

This is saying “I love you”
and only hearing a siren song

This is feeling at home
even with your hands around my neck

Maybe I jumped knowing exactly where I’d fall
Maybe I held your heart so hard it exploded

If we are just two people playing with fire
Why am I the only one who gets burnt?

In sixth grade biology class they taught us
that the average human heart is the same size as a fist.
I didn’t know we would all grow up learning to use it like one.

' if you want to learn what someone fears losing, watch what they photograph '
*that explains why he never took pictures of me