I used to write for fear of forgetting.
I stopped writing for fear of remembering.
Your arms loosening from around me
as you said final thoughts of us.
Your taillights trailing down the street.
Mirroring the floodgates from my eyes.

Now I have the typewriter you gave me.
An incessant reminder of all the words I never said.
All the words that are too late to make up for time lost.

I wrote to you anyway.

Without the intention of winning you.
Only hoping not to lose you,
the only person who could scare the **** out of me
and make me feel like I was floating
using one stupid look
that made me fall ceaselessly and unnervingly
in love with you.

I wanted you to know
that all of my convictions
that true love and fate
were just lies that are spoon-fed to us
so that we aren't starved by an empty life,
it all wavered when you smiled at me.

I want to tell you
that I used to never have dreams
and now you're in all of them.
Making reality that much harder.

Every letter was returned.

All through the night I watched you as you sleep.
You held my gaze with beauty that makes angels weep.
I whispered to you in hopes that you could hear.
That I miss you and wish that you were here.
So i could hold you tight and keep you warm.
In my arms i would shield you from tonights cold storm.
I could not imagine another way, to spend my nights time.
Then watching you until on your face, tomorrow’s lights shine.

I fall hard,
all the time,
consumed
by the sights & sounds
you make.

O Darling Angel,
your heavenly fragrance!

And your taste,
the flavor of the Universe,
I get drunk on.

who am I?
the monster hiding in the crevices of your mind
itching underneath your skin
and pulling hair out strand by strand

who am I?
a river through your hometown
the one you would stand in as a child
and scream as loose shards of glass cut your feet

who am I?
your flashlight in the dark night
shuddering and going out
you leave it there laying on the pavement

who am I?
the old guitar in the corner of your room
dusty and out of tune
but so full of nostalgia that you can’t let it go

who am I?
a blade across your skin
blood in the bathroom sink
bandages hidden under sleeves

who am I?
a best friend
a lover
somebody you never needed

somebody you won't give up
somebody you need to give up
somebody who told you that better things are out there
somebody you never could believe
in the first place

why do you stay?

Cut my heart strings free from yours.
I can't keep being dragged around by you
while you are reattaching to someone new.

The book was lying,
And in its own way it made me die,
I wonder what else this world could do?
The truth that has demolished the world
Is lying just out there.

Why? I shall not ask .
But how? I would prefer .
Have not I been responsible for being too judgemental?
Can a book be so harmful?
Can it ruin us from the deepest hidden corners of our heart?
How could it hold so much of truth in its own small pages ?
The book truly can't be denied.
The truth that has bothered the world.
Cannot  be more perfectly revealed than in it.
Science can never explain why ?
A book is indeed a human's true friend.
One can hear it scream and hurt people through this small pages and show them the truth.
The truth I shall say..
The book says it all.
The truth of the demolished world.
The undying causes and how the world has suffered.

Can you hear us?
The book is crying...
Get up,
pick it up and be brave enough to read it through.