I haven't picked up the pen
in quite some time

It seems as if I'm forgetting
that poetry is everything I used to be

Writing was my escape
And now I feel more than I can take

Now, I'm picking up the pen
Telling my emotions

Explaining the writers block that controlled me

I will finally start again

“Do I love her?”
Still this question haunts me,
Each second with her, thinking of her
Doesn’t go without its presence

“Do I love her?’
My lips go numb at the prospect,
My palms drenched with sweat
It feels as if she has a grip of my heart
And she’s squeezing each time
I attempt to wring myself free

“Do I love her?”
God ******, what a stupid notion
No, this is lust, erratic hormonal passion
I don’t find bliss in her detestable smile,
Nor her intoxicating laugh, and the
way her lips slightly quivers when
she pouts, it’s all vile. I just
want her body, not her heart
I repeat this lie to myself
To the point of redundancy,
Even my own lies have become
Pathetic to me

“Do I love Her?”
I’ve lost breathe, she’s swiped it from me
with her presence, how I can I be so weak,
so fragile, a person made of bone and flesh
shouldn’t have this control of me.
I refuse! Next time I see her
I’ll declare my hatred, purely out of spite.

“Do I love Her?”
I approached her so ready,
Prepared to cut her out of my life,
To free myself of the infection she is.
My moment of liberation was upon me,
Until she ruined everything by talking.
Being the thief she is, she stole my power to hate

“Do I love her?”
I’ve accepted my damnation to this question,.
now, when the thought returns
I nod

Love lasts about seven years. That's how long it takes for the cells of the body to totally replace themselves.

I don't know what got me into
this shady old bar
though first I wanted not to
but door was invitingly ajar.

I went through a cloud of smoke
to an old chair I found my way
my thirst for *** n coke
that's all, nothing more to say.

My love, I will hold you tight
we will sway left and right
but I will be with you whole night
we will dance in heaven tonight

Now I grab the humble fry
while you empty yourself into me
far behind the past died with a cry
and I invoke fresh thoughts for us to see.

We all have become so exceptionally good at faking our happiness…We no longer know when we are actually happy or when the smile is only for the world to see and not to be felt.