roses are red
night is dark
writing this poem
hurts my heart

shaky sobs
like violets, i'm blue
i'm wondering
why i ever loved you

Sometimes I force myself into this certain mood
One that my therapists weren’t able to conclude

I think I would describe it as if I were on the ocean floor
Beautiful yet isolated in the dark with no door

Life is calming and depressing yet beautiful in a way
I reminded myself that I ditched reality, I wasn’t one to stay

I have these tricks that I use to make myself feel numb
Some would say they’re dangerous, but at least they make my heart drum

***** tastes like water, and cigarettes feel like fresh air
When I use too much I sometimes pull out my hair

Sometimes these mechanisms make me cry
But people just label this beautiful thing as ‘high’

Once in awhile I want to stay in that trance forever with no end
Because why should it matter when I have no one to call a friend?

No one cares in my mind but maybe it’s because I want to be alone
Maybe it’s because I force myself to feel this pain down to the bone

Why do I love to hurt myself so much?
I love the way things sting when there’s pain to the touch

Maybe it’s a dark addiction out of the many I own
One where I would love for my life to just postpone

Once again as I write this I want something to make me numb
Or maybe I just took something to think I’m having fun

To pave a smile upon my face for only a few hours at most
I’ve asked myself multiple times, ‘how much to overdose?’

I have a relatively good life but a relatively gruesome mind
When I get in these moods, happiness is the hardest to find

I don’t want to feel happy again
I feel like my body is the one to condemn

I don’t want to feel like this necessarily
But the way it comes upon me is completely involuntary

I don’t want to get better
But don’t worry because this is not my suicide letter.



h.m.w

Oh cold, dark mistress mine
is our union so taboo?
the day is master to us all
but I yearn to be with you

in your arms I feel at peace
you hold my  fears at bay
but sleep comes swiftly to my eyes
the tool of jealous day

I want the dark and not the light
the moon and not the sun
let them go blind on their fattened star
I prefer billions to one

Night, my dear, please do not cry
I lay awake for you
but a yawn now summons me toward day
and the things that I must do

though my will is 'bout to fail
I will return again
for sleep will find in me a foe
and this battle, I shall win.

I have a story to tell you
Please listen, I'll be concise
You see, my name is Love,
Love Poem to be precise

I was born beneath a shaking pen
Moved by a racing heart
The child of a lovesick boy,
whose love moved him to art

I have smudges from erasers
My corners have dog ears
In the valleys of my wrinkles,
are the stains of quiet tears

I may not look like much at all
but what you do not see
is that locked inside my margins and lines
is a love that was never set free

He trapped it here, between my lines
writing with heart and pen
then he crumpled me up, tossed me aside
and never looked at me again

But don't feel bad, it's happened before,
I am not alone in this world
for many a poem lies alone and unread
on a paper both crumpled and curled

So now you've heard me tell my tale
I pray that you ponder upon it
why aching hearts pour out their love
just to join in the wastebasket sonnet

You who goes by "Lonely"
Yes you, who reads these rhymes
Please pause here for a moment
I won't take much of your time

You see my friend, I'm lonely too
In the dark with paper and pen
So I'm writing you this poem
and signing it "Your Friend"

Though I'll prob'ly never see you
nor ever know your name
I do not need to see your face
nor know your cash and fame

I do not care what color you are
how short or tall or fat
I'm weary of all these parties and creeds
So, for a moment, forget all of that

Yes you, dear friend, forget with me
Inhale this moment serene
where we are not opinions or castes
Just two humans with two glowing screens

Be human with me, simple and pure
For a moment breathe deep and feel free
then should you have the time, and a halfway good rhyme
Perhaps write a poem for me.

Signed,
Your Friend