love is like a blind man
trusting his fate on others
leaning on their shoulder to guide him

trusting that they won’t abandon him
or lead him into turmoil

your mind is everywhere
but have you ever felt
the simple joy of being content?
how about the wretched sadness
that inhabits your whole being?

i tell you, you haven’t lived until
life gives you pain, torture, anguish-
shaking the very foundations,
and you overcome it.

you may try to flee to the bottleneck,
or the billowing smokestacks.
let me warn you plainly: you won’t
find a place to hide anywhere in the world

i load into the world, ready to
do as the title of the game says: mine and craft,
he joins. dread mixed with love ensues

time goes by, we level up,
wood to stone, stone to iron
making a plan for our little abode

with cows, sheep, and 2 cats,
just as i begin to fantasise,
he leaves the game

the chatbox rings out
Achievement get: DIAMONDS!
and it was all in vain

i know this isn’t healthy, so let
it be
known that i
shan’t,
can’t stop looking at your photo

into your       eyes

feeling a sense of regretfulness

feeling like a sailor lost at sea

i’m a              mess

      but im your mess
     unless                   you
     don’t                    want
this mess to be yours.

august approaches, and i’m
                     still hung up
about your stupidly pretty face

love is alive and well
but it plays dead for me
what a cruel rosebush to sell
when an end to the tunnel i can’t see

how could this be? i hear you cry
and let me answer that for you.
love doesn’t care whether you cheat or lie,
it cares if your mirror doesn’t shatter into

a million pieces. a shattered icon of
human despair, and society as a whole
delicate, fragile even. but it cuts you off
like a blade of his brilliant earthy iris lulls

‘i love young love’
i say to myself, only sixteen
years of age, the words like a loose glove
on myself, as my eyes water and i lean

on a cobblestone wall, each crack and dent
showing not what has happened,
but what will happen, my heart lent
freely to him, broken and saddened

i’ll probably get over him, i say,
echoing his words in my head
on the cobble floor where i lay,
blood trickling out the thread