she is a rare, delicate flower and you are the only one who knows about her. you are the only one who can protect her.

why a poet?
because a poet
hears the words
which sing the
purest harmonies
because a poet
paints their portraits
in pastels
of phrases
because a poet
dances their agonies
into leaps of faith
and pirouettes
of passion
because a poet
sees
the beauty
in the commonplace
and captures
the moment
in a snapshot
of ink and white
because a bloodless world
cuts itself
a thousand times

and the poet bleeds

After I drove you away,
I felt a heavy weight
Land upon my chest.
I tried to imagine a life
Where you weren't there
To hold my hand and
Wipe away my tears.

I couldn't.

I hated how he acted,
but I loved the warmth
of his hands on my skin

People I care about keep saying,
"All we have is time."
That isn't true.
You took no time at all to find someone new to call yours.
You took no time to forget about me.
It took no time to make these marks on my skin.
It took no time to tear my heart into tiny shreds.
We DO NOT HAVE TIME.

I mostly write about how hard it is for me to breathe, but what I don't write about is the way my sore eyes get some relief when they fall upon you. Your face - blue eyes and devious smile - causes my heart to skip a beat and my stomach to flutter. I don't know if this is love or lust, but it feels like forever.