The problem is that I can see you in my rear view mirror waving good bye every time I try to steer towards something better,
And I reverse back into your arms
In a way that sends my heart crashing back into your atmosphere.

The problem is that I can see me in your bed for hours on end
Researching your skin with my keen eye
So I can kiss at what you would call imperfections.

The problem is that the rose colored glasses I put on
The day I laid on the couch with you and told you I loved you
Haven't lose their hue, haven't lost their tint on my world.

The problem is that I'd drunkenly fall into your arms
The same way I did over a year ago
And I know you wouldn't catch me.

The problem is that you were the one that got away
And you ran fast and far
Because you needed to get away;
That was what I became to you.

The problem was that I taught you more about breaking than heart
And you taught me more about patience than tolerance
And at the end of it all I learned how to live a life without you in it because that was my only option.

The problem is that I am still in love with you
And you're in love with the life
That doesn't have a remnant of me.

The problem is that I am in love with you
And your life
Had no room for me

When you and I kissed
You were made of moonlight.
We shared a sweet embrace;
Your face was so lovely
Your eyes had such beauty
Your lips were so perfect
And I was made helpless.
You and I drew closer
Your breath was sweet fragrance
Then our lips met gently
The touch was pure music.
We held that kiss ageless,
All time was a moment.
The light in you faded
Then I woke up crying
With tears on my pillow
A soul in the darkness.
I know you will refuse
I know I will offend
No, this kiss won't happen-
Not when I am awake.

Know that,
If he were to ever hurt you
In anyway,
I will be there.

I will be there to hold you,
As you cry,
To bring you tubs of ice cream,
Studio ghibli movies,
*****,
And tissues.
To whisper to you
That he was an ******* anyways,
That you will always deserve better,
The best.

I will be there,
To mercilessly ****** him,
To slit his throat,
Let the blood flow out,
Let him experience your pain.

Just know that.

It's times like this where you wish you could take everything back

To write food in the stomach
Of every hungry child.

To spell war as peace,
Metaphorize flowers into the barrel

Of every gun on Earth.
The poet has responsibilities

Beyond those of mothers,
Of kings and presidents.

I refuse to give up hope;  
This could be a poem world.

Come on, write your worst piece
Of literature.

Even misprints may give other
Meanings to a word,

Write me a green sky, blue dirt,
Trees the colour of air.

Sometimes the best poets
Have the least to say,

So keep writing, write until your
Fingers fall asleep.

Write until you havent slept
For weeks in search of that word,

That one right word,
Then rest on a notebook pillow

And dream the world right.
Write the world right.

There is no such thing as
Wasted poetry.