Is the mind usually a place that will darken your soul?
Or are poets simply looking through the wrong places?
Why is it that death trends more than life.
Why is it that depression trends more than happiness.
Is there really something wrong with sleeping at a bed full or roses
and a cup of tea?
Why do those roses always have to have thorns,
and why does that tea always have to be poison?

she said,
"don't grow up,"
and i replied,
"my darling,
it's a bit too late for that.
the fun and games
have ended.
the curtains
are closing.
the adrenaline
is fading.
the smiles
are dying.
the hearts
are breaking.
and i feel
i have lived
a thousand lifetimes,
each one lacking
a childhood."

(a.m.)

When it's raining
I can't decide
If it's the sky
Screaming out in agony,
With broken roars of thunder
And brilliant, crashing streaks of lightning
Or
If it's the sky
Releasing all it has to offer
In gentle tears of rain
Filled with all the sorrows
And regrets
Of its blue wonderland.

Maybe the sky
Is never sure how
To release all its anger,
All its sadness,
All its confusion.
And so on some days
It rains,
Crying softly.
And on others,
It screams
And shouts
With thunder.

Maybe we
Are like the sky.

(a.m.)

I asked,
Begged,
Pleaded
For you to stop.
But the truth of the matter was
You were a train without brakes;
You couldn't be stopped
Until you ran out of tracks to guide you.
And even then,
You would go on,
Soaring recklessly until you,
Inevitably,
Crashed and burned
And lost all the wonder you once had.

And the day I realized this
Was the same day
I stopped asking,
Stopped begging,
Stopped pleading
For you to stop.

Because this was the day
I realized
That a broken, unsteady,
Out of control train like you
Stops for no one.

(a.m.)

this
is my first poem
with no capital letters.

and i don't know
why it matters so much,
because the height
or shape
of a letter
has nothing at all to do
with what you are trying to say
or how you feel,
if, of course,
you are one of those lucky few
who feels anything at all.

(a.m.)

All it took
Was one phrase,
Three words,
Seventeen letters
To realize
She was more broken
Than I thought.

(a.m.)

no.
no.
no.

i want to tell myself
that it's not love,
that it's not happening
all over again.

but what other explanation is there?

when you're near,
my heart skips a beat,
jumping up
like a newly rigged boat,
riding on opal waves.

when you leave,
my heart sinks
like a defeated ship
in the middle of your hurricane.

when we talk,
i am a sailor,
and you,
you are a siren,
luring me in with your captivating songs.

dangerous,
yet beautiful.

but i'll never be the one for you.

no.

instead,
i will always be the hopeful ship
that you inevitably sink.

instead,
those opal waves
will always turn
to black tides
ripping through the sands
of my heart.

instead,
your words will be my addiction,
my high,
my rush,
and
my eventual downfall.

instead,
i will admire you from afar,
after having been hurt once
by your songs.

dangerous,
yet beautiful.

i guess, my dear,
that's why they say
to stay away from sirens.

(a.m.)