What is wrong with love is that it doesn't think, it feels.
At some point you'll be in love with the most mistaken person; the *****, the player, the most unatainable people of all, a tragedy.
A tragedy only worsened when you do get them, because you'll only share a glimpse of life, the most beautiful and magical for you. But how brief that enlightening time is by no means proportionate to the agony of the dark days ahead once they are gone of your side.

Dear Poetry,
Please be gentle.
I’ve admired you for years, and despite all of my tears, I’ll never forget the way you caressed my heart. Warming it and patching it word by word and verse by verse.
But this will be my first, and this is not very well rehearsed,
So
Dear Poetry,
be gentle.
Let me stumble and tumble through the first and second lines but don’t run towards the concubines just yet.
There’s hope for us right?
Dear poetry, don’t go so quickly.
Come sit with me by the window and tell me what way the wind blows.
Whisper to my soul all the things I need to know.
Lift my hair with your metaphors and beat a rhythm so deep I have to feel my heart beat to know I’m alive, because you -
you are the only thing that makes me unique. I can weave through words and sing the similes until I get too dizzy, and when I look up, there’s no eyes I can’t meet.
Dear Poetry,
be mine.
Let’s sit in the grass and laugh on our backs
Let’s wade through the creek bed and read thoughts in my head,
Let’s skip like my heart when he played his part.
Let’s drown scorned love with ciders in a pub.
Let’s be silly and really, really- -
Dear Poetry,
I’ll be at your door every day. Waiting for a hint, a taste, of what to say.
Line by line I’ll build you a castle, stanza by stanza add a rung to the ladder, and poem by poem I’ll make us stronger until I can no longer see the ground and all we have is bound-
Dear Poetry,
Let’s do this again sometime.

I locked myself out of the apartment,
so I find myself sitting in the stairwell.
The same place you left me days ago.
Weeks ago.
Months ago.
The air is a little warmer but it still bites
wintry and frigid like your teeth on my neck
when you were biting back the screams I made you
scream.

they mumble -
stifled laughs from the room next door,
but they aren't really happy the way that we are
because her heart doesn't bleed when he isn't by her side
and she kissed another man last night,
not I;
my lips have been yours for 113 days...
and I couldn't count all of the ways I smile
simply from your presence;
there is a bashfulness about myself when you enter the room
and a sigh of relief as we close our eyes together
at the end of a long day,
and it's all teeth from ear to ear, I swear,
when we're together.

/

but lying in bed tonight I don't feel the comfort of you by my side,
rather a weight, extreme pressure as if I'm being pushed...
these words swim through each vessel in my brain before pacing upon my tongue,
all night they pace, as my chest becomes tighter and your touch becomes colder...
when my eyes finally rest I dream of elephants on stilts;
that is my problems which should not grow evidently finding somehow to,
and a mockingbird sobbing, but how do I know that the tears are true?
I once, not long ago at all, longed for the touch that is making me ill,
for the laughter that is turning me bitter,
for the eyes that are making me weep...
no, it is not your mouth that makes me weep, not the hateful language, nor hurtful accusations;
rather, it's how you must see me to allow those notions cross your mind let alone to speak them aloud,
and with such fury...

/

My hands are shaking
And my nerves are shot
My whole body is quaking
And my heart's in a knot.
I need a quick release,
For some dopamine to flow.
I need to make some peace
And I needed it long ago.
So now I'm just blowing smoke,
Lips wrapped around a cigarette.
I'm out here going broke
But I feel no regret.
I'm spending all I got
Burning through packs.
I'm so **** distraught
And I just can't relax
Till the nicotine kicks in
And the smoke pours out.
I keep on giving in
Cause I just can't do without.

I've never liked the expression
'Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But words will never hurt me."
I think it undermines the power of words
It's undeniable that words have an impact on people
Letters strung together can sting a person's soul
When they are spoken with a tongue used like a whip
Words evoke passion,
They inspire us,
Make our blood boil,
Horrify us,
And yes, they can hurt us
To say that words can't hurt,
Is to demean all that words do
Look at Marat,
Martin Luther,
Shakespeare,
Darwin,
Hobbes,
Freud,
Orwell,
Paine
And tell me words can't change the world
Words are what I turn to when I have nothing left
I'd rather my bones break,
That would be much better,
Than to lose my dignity,
To have a record of voices
Tell me I'm useless,
I'm stupid,
I'm fat,
I'm never good enough
Always on repeat,
Always on my mind,
Always ringing true
Maybe I'm over analytical
Maybe I care too much
About things said in the past
But here's to all the "I love you's"
All the "I hate you's"
To saying "I don't give a ****"
The pen is indeed mightier than the sword
Because your words
Are what made me turn the blade
On myself