I'd have to live
In a dark,
Dull world
To have any chance of
Forgetting you.

You were everything beautiful and bright.

the good nights
used to be tinged
with kisses
and a soft caress
against my back
sending shivers
down throughout my spine
but now you say good night
with silence and
unmoving touches
i'm not too sure
how i became so dull
and unlovable
and cast away
to the colder side
of this bed
it's 5am,
i'm wide awake
this ache kept me awake
as you slept
your arms were in the wrong place
they were supposed to be here, here
holding me and keeping
the slumber less thoughts away

Poetry is dead
when you are not here
to write it in my heart
when your voice is too far away
to read it.

Poetry is dead
when your allure is feeding
strangers' souls on the streets
while I am here alone,
my soul starving.

Poetry is dead in all my being
I feel its ghost leaving my brains
I feel the emptiness inside
and I fear the days
when it will come haunt me
and I won't find a way
to write it.

Sleeping at night it's impossible
cause I hear a question screaming in my chest

When poetry is dead
is there anything out there
left
*alive?

I can't stand this world.

It's a place filled with lies, a world filled with sorrows
A place of violent madness and pitiful tomorrows.

Truth is ineffable, saddening, and out of grasp
and some days I just can't take it,
because the sum of all we are is something that just can't last.

And I promise all these tomorrows will be sunnier day's,
Yet the sun is sinking, sulking and withering away.

My mind just won't stay quiet, it's running and spinning'
and dizzying in shades of grey.

If I could find a point, a purpose, or a meaningful way
I'd trade all my treasure, my pleasure and call it a day.