His Down's Syndrome makes
His age a tough guess, I'll
Say eight to ten.

Wide eyes on machines,
Ice cream dripping on the
Pavement outside the

Construction site.
I wanna work like this when
I grow up, he says in

Young enthusiasm to a mother
Whose eyes well up with
Gratitude when I approach

And kneel down in front of
Him. So you want a job,
Buddy? I ask him with a

Wink. He suddenly remembers
His ice cream and bites into
It shyly. Nods, glancing at the

Tools in my belt, the scratches
On my arms, the brick wall
I've been attacking with a

Wacker jackhammer. Nods
Again. Well, I'll see you in a
Few years, I say with another

Wink, this time to his mother,
Who'd look her young age if
Her eyes weren't as tired,

But you can start with this
And get some practice. I hand
Him my Stanley Fat Max

Hammer. His ice cream
Hits the ground as he
Recieves it with both hands,

Looking to his mother for
Confirmation that it's ok.
Oh, it is. She mouths a

Thank you SO much...
They walk away, his chatter
High pitched and fading

Around the corner. And I
Head over to the foreman to
Report that I lost my hammer.

Don't ever employ me.
I can work a good game, but
I'm too soft around little heroes.

I thought of you when i woke up
And how you stopped my heart beating last night..
All of the butterflies in my stomach are choking now,
They're falling hard like burnt fireflies..

And i'm out of town for a whole month,
I've got a new city to wander in
But every day when i wake up
I'll wonder why you're so fond of him

Cause its been years and years now
And i'm still saving for a half sleeve tattoo,
So i can wake up smiling to an art based on you
And all the good times we have yet to go through

And it's been years and years now
And every summer i've got my black pen on the go,
I'll pen your name up on the billboards so all the busy streets all know,
And i'll pen a heart on my sleeve that keeps on beating for you

I'm writing poems with mixed intentions
I'm trying hard to narrow it down..
So i'll write a song,
Throw away the acoustic sound..
Cause all i feel is electric now..

And nothing's supposed to hurt for this long, no not this long
And theres blood from my heart not inkpen, spilled on our favourite song

But its been years and years now
And you said that change was good for us all
And that pain was something you had to let go,
But your song is all i hear on the radio..

And it's been years and years now
And every summer i feel like the sun's raining down on me
Cause i'm about to drown in other people's positivity,
I just need a way to absorb that from just me..

So i'll ink your name on a band aid
And find some new band mates
And then i'll trade in your favourite records,
For some new cd's since i wrecked yours
And i'll pen out a watch, pouring out endless amounts of time
So on my wrist it'll never say
That its 'holding on' time
Cause i can't live without you
Not even for a day
But i'm gonna have to learn how to
Wash the inkstains from my veins

Please don't misunderstand me
I know this had to be done, things
were growing more rotten by the day
and sudden amputation was our only choice, but

I still feel you, like
fingers grazing skin, I feel you
like a heart that never left this chest
I still feel you, and

Though we had to cut away
the decayed flesh of what is
I am still trapped, thinking about
what was, and what could have been

My heart is still full of tomorrows
and I need you to know
I will never love again, not the way I loved you
never that way

Each path before, led me to you  
but somewhere we took a detour
and I can't stop thinking; Is this the way it ends?
is this the way true love was meant to die?

Severed limb and bleeding heart?
I am only human, and there is a limit
to how much pain I can endure
and even though you're gone

*I can still feel you beating in my chest

You hate my poems
You say they take me from you
that they're pointless
a waste of time
maybe you're right.
You read them,
just the words as they fall,
and say you get nothing
just syllables.
I have lost count
of the sighs and eyerolls,
the you have no talents,
they sit in a memory box
along with the times you've asked me to stop.
Stop.
Just like that.
Stop pouring myself onto paper,
Stop looking for beauty in darkness,
Stop healing.
You prefer me broken, fragile, dependant,
the girl you took from nowhere to god knows where
a once pretty, broken thing
to hang silently from your arm
while you talk proudly of the soul that you saved.
You fear that my writing will end us.
I fear that my stopping will end me.

I keep writing about you
A lot of people say that my poetry is amazing and I have no idea why they say that
And I think it's because they're all about you, because you're ******* wonderful
But what you don't know and what they have no idea is that
I stare at the ceiling for hours
And my hands can't seem to move
Leaving my pen untouched and just having a blank page
Filled with no words about you or about love
Because all I feel is frustration and disappointment
Maybe I write these things but it actually doesn't come close to how I'm really feeling
But if actions could be expressed into words
I would write about how I should have hugged you for hours and convinced you to stay
How your favourite song just came up the radio, reminding me the first you made me listen to it
I would write about me standing outside the rain near the bus stop, thinking and replaying all the things you said to me, as I hide my tears from the rain
Then I realized I never had you
We were never official
I would write about the burning fire from my heart as it start to burn because of how much I miss you
and how the burning flakes have reached my brain at 3 in the morning thinking about how I miss your voice and how I crave your presence
And then I remember being up so late was only that much fun when you were still around, with our deep talks & late phone calls
I wish every ******* day that you were still here
And I don't know how to end this writing because there is no poetic way to say and describe how I feel so empty and that I just want you back
But what I know is that I'll never let go