the thing about me is

i know that i am worth it
yet the voices in my head are telling me otherwise
there are thorns piercing my fragile heart
and with every insult and hurtful word
the thorns dig deeper
the voices scream louder
the light in my eyes fade slowly
as does the *** of gold at the end of the rainbow
as does the light at the end of the tunnel
my voice is hoarse and desperate
i know i am screaming for the light to stay
it's trying to
it's screaming back at me
darkness fills the room
it's pitch black and
i don't see the light anymore

the thing about me is

i settle for coal when in fact
i deserve scintillating diamonds

I think Death aims to surprise us
It can do so much as erase someone
With a click of a camera or
a bolt of lightning

As we drag ourselves onto grass,
still wet from rainfall last night
We tend to forget that
someone we once knew,
Beating heart and all,
Is buried beneath our very own two feet.

Death does not warn us.
All he does is ****** loved ones from between our fingertips.
No matter how hard we grasp and no matter how tight our fists are clenched,
Death will claw open our hands and force us to let go.

Take note, Death grabbed you from me.
I know Death is inevitable but he needs to understand I was not ready for tears and heartbreak.

I was not ready for the Last Good Day.
The flash of the worn out camera and the constant ringing of our dusty old phone.
There are so much things I could have said to you and your gray locks.
But alas, I did not.

Now, I stand here above your grave;
Red roses in my bare hands.
I tell you how much you mean to me and
how I will never face your smile again.
I cry out I'm sorry for not answering our dusty old phone and for not telling you how much I love you, present tense.
Kneeling on my knees, I beg you to come back so I can feel your warmth spread through my veins one last time.

My voice gets lost in the wind, I realize.
So I set down the roses we picked for you
And commend Death on how easy it was to take everything and leave me with nothing.

one day
when the sunlight
stops playing hide and seek
with the clouds

i will set down my worn out pen
and stop scribbling about you
the tears streaming down my cheeks
will not be for your benefit

someday
as the trees
shed their leaves
the color of the summer sunset

my pen's ink will have dried up
and my sappy poems brown at the edges
i have learned to pick myself up
one discolored piece at a time

as the waves
start to calm
and the tides
start to quiet down

i start scribbling
i start scribbling about happiness
about how the stars are all in place
and how i have taped and colored in
my once shattered heart

Do not fall for the plucked daisies & the sweet smelling roses
Just yet
Do not let your mind wander off to places even out of your own reach
Just yet
Do not fall for the tousled hair boy with poetry on his skin and a heart as soft as clouds
Just yet
Do not unlock your heart for someone who tells you you're cute
Hand over the key to somebody who focuses the camera on you and not on the sunset ablaze in the distance

Don't rush Love
Ring Love at 2:30 in the morning and you'll get him, half asleep and drooling on your nightgown.
Wait for Love and he will arrive at your front door with a grin on his face, a rose free of thorns, and a ring in his back pocket.

You decide.

A poet is the cracked spine of your favorite novel. As you begin to peer inside, words fly out from every direction. Sentences you can't make out and phrases you can't even begin to recognize. His mind is a dusty dictionary of all sorts.

A poet resembles the tide that rises and falls just as your heartbeat does with every syllable he breathes out. Corals scrape your legs and fish nip at your feet yet you linger in the water.

A poet is a pastel picture frame. Amazing how 4 corners can freeze the sparkles in your eyes and the grin on your lips. Feelings do not last forever so we tend to keep anger, sadness, joy & love sealed in glass, sitting on our night stand.

His mind is a factory.
Gears & wheels working late night shifts, making sure all periods and commas are in place.

You see
Poets are
Tear jerkers
Risk takers
Shape shifters
and
Heart breakers

And I should admit
Falling in love with your cracks & crevices
Wasn't exactly my cup of tea

But your gasoline filled veins
Were just about enough
To create a fire in me

they crowd the palace
kings with golden scepters
and queens with glimmering crowns
one by one standing in front of
the tallest tower

inside there are
streamers painted with every color smudged on an artist's palette
the music is blaring
entering the ears of every listener

inside there is
food on every porcelain plate
and napkins folded into delicate shapes

there is a banner
looking down from the heavens
written on it is the reason behind this sudden celebration

congratulations my love for
once again you have managed
to make me the dust
beneath your feet and
the rust between your bones

how do i extinguish these memories
from my messed up mind
so ablaze and so vivid
burning up and eating me alive
you were once the flame to my fire
now i want you to be the ash
that rides the wind
i want those memories to rise up in the night sky and mix with the atmosphere
and i want to forget you
like how you forgot me

according to the old & worn out dictionary i tossed away in the attic
to cry is to shed tears
to cry is to shout or scream 

the words in my dictionary are wrong 

crying is leaning against the wall at 1 in the morning
your hair messed up and
your shirt ruffled
the tears in your eyes build up until the world is just one big blur 

at 1:30 your tears are replaced with bloodshot eyes and trembling hands

at 2 in the morning you stare
right through the concrete wall and
all that runs through that twisted mind of yours is
what did i do to deserve
all this pain and heartache

you try to stand on your feet at 2:30
in the morning but your legs feel like they've been glued together and you sink right down back again

you are drowning and
you can't gasp for air
you'd do anything to breathe again
you would do anything for a touch of sunlight
but you realize you're not even underwater
you're drowning in all the pain
that happiness is far out of your reach 

that's what crying is
and maybe they should add that to the pages of my old and worn out dictionary

On the verge of giving up and letting go,
She lashes out her agitation and frustrated soul
With drastic earthquakes and sudden tears
Just to insinuate that the end is near

Oh how her wayward inhabitants respond to her plea
They have suddenly become oblivious to her only decree
To save her, help her become whole again
For her abandoned spirit and soul to mend

After tarrying for too long
She does not let them right their wrongs
Everyone intently listens to her final breath
And they know, that sadly, this means death

The last thing she hears is
Abrupt screams and desperate cries
Her mouth utters a final goodbye
As she sheds one last tear

She’s dead
She’s gone
The end is here

A blank canvas stares right through me
No colors on my palette
None splattered on my apron
What has become of the beautiful brush strokes I once used to draw?
All my eyes gaze upon are smeared zigzags and uneven lines
There were instances where I could sketch every inch of your face and draw every corner of your heart with colors borrowed from a sunset
Now I cannot bring myself to map out the dimples on your cheek nor can I doodle the sparkles in your eyes
Guess what I can do?
Nothing because I am an artist
Lost without her muse

- J.Q