You left me alone with my thoughts again.

You left me alone to the hopelessness, the pain.

You left me alone with my thoughts & they're killing me.

I dreamt of you.
I'm infected by you.

There was an old person of Pinner,
As thin as a lath, if not thinner;
They dressed him in white,
And roll'd him up tight,
That elastic old person of Pinner.

You are the girl
I try to draw with my words;
the girl I try to describe as perfectly
as she actually is,
but none of my words do her justice.

You are the girl
with the big silver eyes
that reflect the world
like two clear pools of tears.
The eyes that look past all my flaws
and still manage to find something
they think is perfect within me.

You are the girl
with the little hands
that grab and tug my shirt
when she wants my attention.
The same hands that trace my jawbones
and leave scratches across my lower back.

You are the girl
with the perfect lips.
The lips that drive me close
to the edge of insanity.
The lips that have left marks all over
my rough skin.

You are the girl
that makes me want to write,
because you drive me crazy
and cause my emotions to build up
inside of me.

You are my dreams.
You are my reality.
You are that girl.
You are the only girl.

Lying rigid in the frozen dewy grass, breathing fog into the air
If only I could see beyond the clouds, I'd look into the starscape
And trace the constellations with my eyes
Searching for the one we called our own
Remembering the way we lay beside each other one sacred summer night
Straining our eyes, staring longingly at meteors and satellites.
Tonight, those stars so hidden from my view are the same presiding over you
And that used to comfort me, knowing that you're not unreachable.
But tonight, I see through starry eyes
looking down at us with their celestial vision
To witness a bright and happy girl whose smile steals the world
And a broken, lonely man who used to call her "love."

I had did it again,
made someone else my gravity
But that was before I realized
I never needed someone holding me down
Just someone to help me fly

the thing about it
about pain
is that it is most important
romantic even
Without it, it feels as though something is missing
And with it, it at least feels like something

They told me I could sell my body,
Instead I decided to sell my mind.
It's $10 a hit,
But I don't yet know
if this is harm or a high.

Slumbered scratching into a bedside notebook
   lying in darkness under a thick blanket of revelation
Afraid that lamplight may blind these 3am eyes
   to the dim, wispy glow of mystical comprehension

Trusting that valued mysteries will later be deciphered
   from this barely legible scrawl of the night
Refusing to squander such moments of divine lucidity
   captured in a poetic hand written outside the lines

Reluctant to wait until morning lest the light of day
   exposes a tenuous relationship to reality
Causing rays of enlightenment to glance off its surface
   in beams of obscure and superficial logic

Tangential truths
   scribbled in the dark