The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

honey tumbled from her lips
her kisses dusted with powdered sugar
even the stars
Fell
at the softest of her silken sighs

Some people write about  regrets
Some write about  mistakes
Some about  heartbreaks
Some sorrow

Others people write about discoveries
Others write about nature
Others about  striving
Others surviving

No people write about  the racket of silence
No one writes about  knowing their feet by heart
No one about  the night of black snow
No one the tip of the iceberg

One pillow
Between my legs
I hold it there at night giving myself a false Sense of security and a curve to my spine That says I love you

Two pillow
Wrapped around my arms
The illusion of your sturdy chest
Heart beating
Your skin warm against my cheek
I am safe here with your arms around my hips  
Our legs tangled together like two Perfectly woven pieces of fabric
Heartbeats sync
Eyes slowly close
I love you’s whispered

Open your eyes

One pillow
Between my legs giving me a false sense of security and a strong stiff spine

Two pillow
I wrap my arms around it tight
Wishing you had a sturdy heart
Wishing you were here

But pillow thoughts are always hopeful for things that will never be.

today is your birthday
I hope you know that if I could
if I could say it
I would say happy birthday
but I cant
I can't congratulate you on another year
but I hope there's cake
and candles too
like the ones I used to do
but that's over
however, your day is not
so take a shot
"cheers to 28"