I will move away from my comforting structure and rhyme.
Why not take the one shred of comfort I have left?
Do I write for her or me?
I do not know for sure
how to answer.
Shall I begin?


It was a day as any other, I was eating as I do.
The place was empty and desolate.
My eyes must be mistaken.
A cruel trick of the mind.
Crushing the heart
to nothing but
a heavy
hole.


I look again
and I see that my eyes
are not deceiving my heart.
Is this the moment I have prepared for?
I slowly walk by. There she is again, the one who
haunts my dreams and crushes my soul at her very thought.


Coward.
I walked by
only to keep walking.
I will think of the words I must say.
This will give me the courage to face her.
Deep breath, there she is, here I am, what am I doing?


My legs begin to shake and my hands begin to sweat.
I am looking her in the eye and have lost the ability
to speak, to think, to move, to be!
I am as cold as the ice that now
runs through her veins
as a result of me
and what I
did to
her.


There is so much I want to tell her that I can't express.
I still think about you often.
I wish I could change
The past and I
hope that we
can maybe
start over
fresh.
I know that this may be a hard thing to do.
I know that it is something you probably
do not want to attempt with me.
But this whole thing is strange.
I wish I could tell you how
I truly feel about you.
I wish I could say
that I truly care.
I know it is
pointless.


What are the chances of you actually holding back?
How likely is your apathy a mask for your pain?
Blasphemy to think that you are showing
a face that is not truly how you feel.
But what if that was the case?
What if you were holding
back something that
you wished you
could share?
What if there was a secret place where you wrote a poem too?
Could there be a side to this that you are hiding from me?
Are there feelings that you are still hiding from yourself?
These are the things I think of while I am alone.
I cling to the what-ifs, and cherish the past.
But there we were that day, talking.
Trying to find a way to fix
the past the best way.
Does she know
the reason
why?
I do not think that she understands why I did what was done.
I do not think she knows why I could not tell her.
I do not think she is aware that I began to care
for her and I needed more time to think.
Do you remember the night we
became one body, one soul?
That was the very night
I meant to come clean.
This was day three
and was meant
to be the day
I confessed.
But there you were, so beautiful and perfect.
You made the night so amazing I could not
ruin what we had started. I knew at that
point I wanted to continue because
I had feelings for you.
It was not about ***,
it was about you,
and I together
to see what
it could be.


Do you remember the night I came clean to you?
It is a night that haunts all others as I sleep.
I did not tell you because I wanted you
to leave. I told you because I was
finally sure with what I wanted.
I wanted to be with you.
I wanted to see where
this could bring us.
You cannot deny
our chemistry.


Do you want to know another thing I didn't tell you?
I know that you were hiding your feelings.
The apathy card did not fool me at all.
I know that I really hurt you.
I wish I thought you
did not care.
But I know that this is not the case with us.
I feel like I broke your heart.
It may not have been love
but it was something
special that I have
never felt before.
Although you
won't admit
it, I think
that you
felt it
too.
Two people do not get that close that soon.
I wanted to continue with you.
I wish I would have been
able to keep you from
going back into his
arms again.
I mean
who
does he think he is, treating an amazing girl so poorly?
I absolutely despise how he treats you.
But what can I say to you?
I can be better to you?
Be more genuine?
I know I can
but I have
lost your
trust.


I tend to write dramatic, and I often come across as sad,
but I try not to feel these feelings in my everyday life.
I often do not really know how I am feeling until I
begin to write it down in this secret document.
This past Wednesday was the last class of the
semester and it was the only time that you
were able to really get to me, I will admit.
I felt like you were trying to flaunt him
in my face to add misery to our
confused triangle of supposed
friends and unsure lovers.
It may just be all in my
head but I was the
fool who let it
all get to
me.


I was embarrassed and surprised that I felt something like jealousy.
I know that you are now dating again, I have heard it from both
of you, although you told me in very different ways.
I hate how he told me, and I hate how he talks
about you. I think he is okay as a person,
but I do not think he treats you as well
as you deserve to be treated.
However, as long as you
are happy, then I can
tolerate anything
and anyone
else.


There is one thing that I wish I could ask you.
It is going back to the day we last talked.
You said that next semester maybe
things could be different with us.
But how did you mean that?
Did you mean that as
maybe being as
friends once
more?
Clarity in these words I wish I had.
I am torn on what to do next.
I don't think I should send
This one to you.
I think that it may say too much.
It may be too clear, too bold.
Too ordinary too unpoetical.
I wonder what you think
Of these poems. I wish
I could have a real
answer someday.
I wish one time
you would
respond.


Life, Like this poem, has many ups and downs
like eternal stairs that are left incomplete.
The best thing we can do is to try
not to be one of those people
that sadly gets left at the
shorter end of this
Eternal Circle.

These are outsiders, always. These stars—
these iron inklings of an Irish January,
whose light happened
thousands of years before
our pain did; they are, they have always been
outside history.
They keep their distance. Under them remains
a place where you found
you were human, and
a landscape in which you know you are mortal.
And a time to choose between them.
I have chosen:
out of myth in history I move to be
part of that ordeal
who darkness is
only now reaching me from those fields,
those rivers, those roads clotted as
firmaments with the dead.
How slowly they die
as we kneel beside them, whisper in their ear.
And we are too late. We are always too late.

Oh what pure beauty,
So much perfection,
How is it even possible?
Someone as handsome as you,
You can get anyone,
But why me?
I'm not complaining,
I am deeply amazed,
Your eyes,
So much astonish,
Deep serenading blue,
Soft pale skin,
All mine,
It is so warm,
Just like your heart,
It beats to a beautiful melody,
keeping you here with me,
Your lips,
Red, soft, and perfect,
Our kiss is what makes me love you most,
It reminds that you really are real,
It shows me that life is worth living,
Tells me that we are going to be together,
Forever.

Nothing matters anymore...

So should it end?

*Would anyone care?

Bucket full of coins and lint
From pockets of the passing
He sits there staring silently
His sign board does the asking

Truth be told he only wants
Money for his drink
His sign expresses honestly
What the passers by all think

Why Lie, Need *****
is written on his card
But, to look this man right in the eye
Is really something hard

He doesn't smile, is dressed for warmth
Even though it is quite warm
I don't think it's for the weather
It's for his own internal storm

That rips apart inside his soul
A storm that no one's seen
It knocked him on a wayward course
He lost who he might have been

We'll never know just who he was
We only know him at this hour
For those who pass him here each day
He's known as Whiskey Sour

He sits there with his plastic tub
Watching people on their way
Whiskey Sour thanks them kindly
No matter what they say

A victim of his own devices
Or a victim of all ours
No matter where you walk and look
You will all meet Whiskey Sours.

One night my love and I were out observing the constellations
When from nowhere we hear to our consternation
Incessant notes of outrageous declaration.
My love and I upon closer clandestine inspection
Observe a drunken troubadour torturing such inflection
As to sour the deafest of men upon hearing such disconnection.
As we run hand in hand unaware of our direction,
Pelting objects sound crushing the object of our disaffection.

I'm so happy I'm sad and I'm so happy I
wanna hit someone
I love you so much that I wanna scream
at the top of my ******* lungs and I love you so much I
wanna hide under the smallest grain of salt

Oh no, you weren't my
lullaby singer, my troubadour, but
in my darkest nights I
knew I could  count on you
                                                             ­                                           always.


Always there with your eager
words (eager hands), with your
incessant desire for more,
(always more) and that's when I
                                                               ­                                          knew


you were the one I needed.
The way you were crushing
on other meaningless girls was
                                                                ­                                       something


I could easily overlook.
You were here and it
was all that mattered to me.
And the sour feeling in my heart
                                                           ­                                              was


not important (right?) But then,
why are you the world to me, when
I am only one tiny star in the
constellation of your life? In my bed,
at night, (every night), I wish I am
                                                              ­                                          *wrong.