when a poet falls in love with you
you can never die
they will notice the way
you rub your palms and look down
when someone is angry at you
and the way you smirk
as you pull away from a kiss

they will notice how you can't sleep
without your body touching someone else's
how you never crease any pages of books
and how you close your eyes when you dance in your kitchen
with your record player on

they will find all of the words
that they see you as
and turn them into something beautiful

people say you die twice
once when you stop breathing
and when someone says your name
for the last time

if you fall in love with a poet
they will never stop
mentioning your name
you will be alive
for eternity

There is beauty in the failure of words-
Like the withering leaves on an autumnal eve.
For what the best words fail to deliver-
Are the most precious things that we feel.

Are we stopping
because we can't
or are we stopping
because we are afraid?
I'd cross the line
and break the wall
For all the things
I'd do to have you,
all of the 'only ifs'
inside my head,
and all the hopes,
my desires
of you
I'd walk through
every forbidden thing,
for all that I know,
at the end of me,
and you,
there will never be
us.

Time of death:
3:44.
When you told me you don't love me anymore.
Place of death:
The park where we met,
on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
I remember the dreaded words which escaped your lips,
the heat in your words,
the look on your face,
as I took a metaphorical bullet to the chest;
it hurt like Hell.
Cause of death:
You.
When you stabbed me in the heart for the first
and last time.
A fatal blow.
But in the coroner's office,
all the report will ever show is:
time of death:
3:44.
Cause of death:
Trauma to the chest.