If I've learnt anything from this year
Its that you need to plan ahead
Set yourself goals and stick to them

It may be hard
It may be boring
But in the end itll be rewarding

I am your poet --
I write your name on my heart
and our memories on my pages.

I write about my doubts,
my maybe's, what if's
and whereabouts
of you; and only you.

I write about my mistakes and yours --
our past, present, supposed future;
and how I love you the most.

I write about our debates --
the shouting and crying like
a wildfire sprawled across the bed.

I write about our first date --
when we dress up so nicely
and danced all night.

I write about our first kiss --
the push and pull of our lips;
and the warmth of our breathing.

I write about the way we talk --
the sweetest and most painful sound
uttered against the wind by the heart.

I write about your heartbeat --
the way it speaks to me,
and how it says my name joyfully.

I write about your face, your body,
the sound, noise, and joy;
and how we make love endlessly.

I am your poet --
I write about our unending love
that ends on my pages.

You made a poet fall in love with you
And expected her not to write sonnets about your eyes
Haikus about the way you kissed her in the moonlight
Expected the fire in her heart not to inspire couplets
You made a poet fall in love with you, and when you left
Expected her not to write pages about the ache in her chest
Write a soliloquy dedicated to her tears
Expected her not to feel every gut wrenching moment of the pen hitting paper like your words hit her in the most vulnerable places of her mind.
You made a poet fall in love with you, and you expected her to be silent.
That is no fault of hers.

You see
A person only truly falls in love
Once in their life time
And once that time is used up
There is no more.
You can lie to yourself
And to others
But if you were truly in love with them
That love cannot be undone.
I am in love.
A love that won't go away
With my best friend.
I fell off
The bridge of love
And into the waters
Where he followed
But his love came with strings attached
A bungee
And he jumped back up
And left me sitting there in the waters
While he's up on the bridge
Calling me up there
While I'm wishing him down here
And I have no bungee.

He was writing me.

And then he decided
that he doesn't want to write me anymore.

So there I was left, hanging;
a rope tightened around my neck: forever choking,
and my feet dangling from the ceiling.

I didn't know what to do because I had no ending.

I used to draw cages,
Cages as open as your mouth,
But as empty as your words.
Cages as cold as winters touch,
But not as frozen as your heart.
Cages so dark and lonely,
A mirror of myself.
I used to draw cages,
Cages that I could never fill,
Because they were
only drawings,
That I drew
Inside
my cell

I see you too much
I hear you to much
I smell you too much
I taste you too much
I feel you too much

That you became my
6th sense