I’m sending all the letters that I wrote to you.
Each on paper; plain, lined or scrap,
in pencil or pen with misspelled letters
and scratched out words.

A text would have been faster
a tweet would have been easier
but I can’t tell you I love you
in any less than 3 pages.

So I’ll take them to the post office
and send them out today
they’ll make it to you first
but I’ll be on my way.

As I read your poetry
I wonder if it's true
Do the demons that help in rhyme
Really have a hold of you

And is the one you say you love
Not returning you the favor
In the poems that you pen
Is this all your life's behavior

Does your father really raise his fist
While your mother screams
As alcohol flows freely in your life
Or is it just poetry

Are you on the verge of suicide
And do you truly cut yourself
Do you feel that worthless in your life
Is what you write a cry for help

As I read your poetry
It often sets me off to wonder
Do you write about yourself
Or do you write about another

It started with “Hey!”
I was shy and reserved.
You were boisterous and outgoing.
We became instant friends.
You balanced me on life’s balance scale.
Our lives became in synced.

It continued with “I love you, as a friend”
Daily calls ending at 3 am.
Movie nights in our ugliest Pjs.
I became your relationship therapist
And you became my life counselor.
My heart became entangled with yours.

It grew tricky with “I love you”
Your presence made me giddy.
Your smile made my inners swoon.
Hearing about your relationships
Filled me with envy.
A battle arose between my mind and heart.

It fell apart with “I need you”
You put me down easily.
Showing me my place in your life.
I could be everything but not the “one”.
You would never feel the same,
But we could remain best friends.

It ended with “…… “
Our friendship isn’t able to bounce back.
I cry daily knowing I can’t have your love.
I can love you better than any!
Maybe you’ll realize when I’m gone
That with my heart; is where yours belong.

Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know
That things depart which never may return:
Childhood and youth, friendship and love’s first glow,
Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn.
These common woes I feel. One loss is mine
Which thou too feel’st, yet I alone deplore.
Thou wert as a lone star, whose light did shine
On some frail bark in winter’s midnight roar:
Thou hast like to a rock-built refuge stood
Above the blind and battling multitude:
In honored poverty thy voice did weave
Songs consecrate to truth and liberty,—
Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve,
Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to be.

she sensed a venom in her blood
slowly killing her heartbeat.
she knew she had to fix it.
she thought that the only way
to rid her flesh of this toxin
was to cut it out.
she tried.
she failed.
she learned to live with poisoned blood
and a dead heart.

Ever wonder what a real man is like? Let me tell you.

A real man cares about what goes on in your head.
All the others just care about getting you to bed.
A real man gives you a special place in his heart.
Them other guys just want you to spread your legs apart.

A true man wants to ease all of your pain.
A "player" wants you for his own gain.
A real man isn't scared for you to see his tears.
Them other boys will never tell you their fears.

(Insert rant) A sign that you've found a real man is when you are both able to share your all of your worries, anxieties, and personal cares with each other; and can do so in faith that he's not only listening, but caring.

A real man is there through thick and thin.
Other guys just want your skin.
You can look a real man deep into his eyes,
And know that he's not hiding any lies.

**To all the men who read this poem, look at yourself and see if you fit this description. Do you think that your lady would say you follow these guidelines? If you're single, are you a man that ladies find trustworthy? I hope you are, and if you're not that you change that. We men need to represent.

I want back what I have lost.
To be whole once more,
To find the piece that fits.
I can't feel much;
But what I can,
Is just enough
To get up again.
The hope that tomorrow,
I'll find someone new,
To help me place the pieces;
To show me love again