congratulations and farewell
oh the stories we both could tell
but that would be in bad taste

goodbye and good riddance
you grew fond of my permissance
and now you recoil seeing my face

whatever happened
may never be clear
if erasure is what you want
for the last 5 years
that's honestly really sad

i can't stop you
but i can grow on
when you're ready
i'll be long gone
and it'll be just too ******* bad

i see the storm clouds rolling in
should probably head back in
but my afternoon has just begun
and i didn't get to see anyone
i'm being stubborn and careless
just to be out on the terrace
soaking up the last of dancing rays
in the last of my suffering days
i really oughta close the window
but i like how it feels when the wind blows
i didn't feel anything for a long long time
and its selfish but who cares if i die
at least i died free
if it were following my wishes
the last you'd see of me

You read my poems
That makes me so happy
You enjoy my words
Even if they're sappy
I'm glad you like the poems I do
I'll keep writing these poems just for you

taking the cowards exit
because to hate is easier than to love from afar
and how can i hurt myself like that
when you knowingly broke my heart

i tell myself i'm allowed to change
i think i just say that to feel okay
with everything that has happened
yet i still feel drained

i can live with myself
if i end up being wrong
but what if i can't find a purpose
once you're gone

i tell myself i'm young
and i wont get it right the first time
but i only have so many chances
before i **** up my life

rain falls, sinks into my skin slowly,
pacing down the path with you on the other line.

we talk for too long, but it flows a little seamlessly,
like a new bend in a stream

and we end on a fine note,
a prelude for the next conversation.

You can bring up love
Talk about hate
Things that you save
Those you give away
With the little progress
That you have made
As you watch it all
Go down the waiting drain

You can read along
Knowing you are not alone
When robbing Peter
Trying to pay Paul
Having the right
Of course, to be wrong
You can bring about all this and more
On the inside of a poem

You can hum a tune
As your hands collect
Count the things that do
And those that do not last
Talk of remembered times
That really weren't that bad
Move in the direction of
What may lay ahead

You can tell the truth
Of what is going on
Or greatly misconstrue
The entire point
Rhyme wherever
You find that your mind roams
Bring about all of this and more
On the inside of a poem