The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

What is the cost of loving you, sir?
A slap, or two, or three or four?
Even more than that
If I tip my hat
Can we make that none?

What is the cost of loving you, dearie?
I can see you're asking for quite a lot of money from me.
Can we make that none?

What is the cost of loving you, Ma Chérie?
Another lover, but one who I think
Is not your lover?
Can we make that none?

What is the cost loving you, sweetheart?
You're not so sweet I see
If you want to beat me
Like eggs in a cup
Shattered, bleeding
Can we make that none?

What is the cost of loving you, handsome?
Some hate, not from you.
But from bystanders.
Who
Seem
To
Be
Unable
To
Shut
Their
Mouths
To
Stop
Pouring
Out
Hate
Towards
Us
Over
Nothing.

No one ever asked her if she was okay.
She was the one they could go for when they needed help.
No one ever thought about her problems..
How would they know she hid them so well...

She always had a smile, and made everyone laugh. She was the sun, the epitome of silly and kind.
But as cliché as it was she was also the one who hurt the most.

The emotions bottled up, the issues she heard from everyone else almost felt like hers. The weight of being everyone's hero she barely had time to deal with her own..
Put them away she said, your friends need you. But on this day it was too much. Everything she'd repressed came to light she was miserable she was completely exhausted.
Energy lost.
Hope gone.
The will to help was non existent.

They had taken all her energy and left an empty carcass that once was a smiling and actually happy girl. And who was there to be her hero?


No one. Not a soul. She was left all alone in the darkness in the shadows of her friends and family. Because without her they were nothing.

in the rain-
darkness,     the sunset
being sheathed i sit and
think of you

the holy
city which is your face
your little cheeks the streets
of smiles

your eyes half-
thrush
half-angel and your drowsy
lips where float flowers of kiss

and
there is the sweet shy pirouette
your hair
and then

your dancesong
soul.     rarely-beloved
a single star is
uttered,and i

think
       of you

I was looking for love
And I lost my peace
The love was above
I was on my knees.

The prayers were lost
The pain was everywhere
What are here those ghosts?
What's doing the fear?