A boy and his father sat by a lake
fishing rods in the water
but no conversation in the air
the dad asked what he learned in school
the boy said nothing
as his hook remained afloat
ok the dad said
but one day ill be gone and you'll wish you had told me

That boy became a teen
concerned with bigger things
like girls and homework
and designer jeans
he had his first date
but declined to tell his dad
that's fine the dad said
but one day ill be gone and you'll wish you had told me

that boy became a man
who had a little trouble getting on his feet
he was afraid to go home
to the parents that raised him
he felt his failures were a disappointment
so he said he was fine alone
just know the dad said
one day ill be gone and you'll wish you had told me


That man landed a better job
and met the woman he loved
now he was secure
and everything was ok
He picked up the phone
and had so much to say
but it turns out that day
was one day

If you don't reply
you don't exist
if you do reply
you're not who they say you are

Catching feelings on a breeze, ingesting emotions inhaling you

My dad dug his foot into my back like a shovel breaking soil.
If I do enough push ups, can I put a smile on your face.
If I move the earth for you, will meteors stop me.

I carried sparklers in my hands while cannon-kisses erupted in the sky,
and my cousin swore that I'd hurt myself.
But I explained to him that history repeats itself,
and that my hurt is unavoidable.

Like the hug of a grieving grandmother,
and the staring off into space,
as her tears stain my white oxford lie.
There's no way to get out of this place.
Finding new ways to live in death.

I don't want to be cool. I don't want to be cool.

And her fingers left a ******* on my back.
And my mouth melted onto hers.
I love her until my eyes **** in sleep.
And it's deep. And it's deep.

The swirl of the ceiling sank down
like a child being drowned by his mother.
And I missed my brother, and I missed it all.

I don't want to be cool. I don't want to be cool.
No, not anymore.

I adore the way my skin looks with yours.
Milky white against your caramel complexion.
Soft is the touch of love,
Yet heated by passion.
Pink lips part to taste,
Flesh so desirable.
I'd like to press upon you,
Souls intertwined.
Breath and beating hearts become our own music.
Time is still,
Worries lost....
You Are my Only focus.
Gently tracing curves with the lightest of finger tips.
Pushing the hair back from my face, Eyes meet,
A gaze that's held with looking beyond what's visibly seen.
Love lacks the true form of my heart colliding with yours.

I wanted to write a poem about flowers, so that's what I did.
It was short, expressed how I feel, and cut like glass.
I showed my father "Flowers" and he thought it was mediocre.
And I said, "No, "Mediocre" is the poem where I talk about dying,
and I'm trying to stay alive, so I wrote about flowers."

Flowers strangling soil plots with their roots, with their existence.
And to hurt something you love with your existence is a terrible feeling.

I only want you if you're damaged
I haven't got the time to figure out where all of your faults are.
I want to see them clearly displayed all over
Your body.

Pure
Perfection