The best part about knowing you’re gone
Is knowing I no longer need to try;
The worst part is
Knowing I no longer can.

Seriously though,
I see no point
In writing sad poems
About a girl who will
Never even read them
Never even care again
That I put my heart on the line
While she looked at other men
So instead, I’ll write something happy
Something about me.
Today I drank a bottle of wine,
Kept a smile,
And pet a dog.
I feel congratulatory.

You and I have been us so long
That's all I know how to do
But since you said goodbye, I'm gone
I'm having to learn something new

I'm too old to go back to school
If you must know the truth
This is the hardest thing I've ever done
Learning how to un-love you

Falling head over heals was the easy part
It's all I ever wanted to do
Love with you was a work of art
With the lines drawn out so smooth

Not sure I would have started this
In hindsight if I knew
How hard it'd be to study this
Learning how to un-love you

And you're a liar,
But then again really everyone here is.
The words spoken,
Always sound so dull,
When we sit in this room,
And mindless words float around.

I've seen you all lie,
For me,
     For friends,
          For yourself,
And we will all lie, to
Save lives,
     Save thought,
          Save even face,

People will tell tiny white kinds,
Others will tell the blackest of all,
All in the name of trying to be cool,
All in the name, they say, of kindness and love.

I'm a liar too,
To friends or my mother,
To strangers or a lover,
But it's in this silence,
I have to be honest,
Sincere, not withholding.

In stillness, the faintest,
Sound of beating chests,
Breathing lungs,
Trembling souls,
Zephyrs come howling,
While trees stand and whisper.

Sick and tired of the daily lies,
Fall into each others love,
Trusting silence to
Finally speak honest words,
For the first time in days,
Maybe months, even years.

A heartbeat cannot lie,
With sanity on the line,
And it's a sure step up,
From that sneaky little muscle,
Slipping in our mouths;
They say it's called a "tongue."

Let these untruths of yours
Be set free unto the sea,
Cease this fabrication,
Of stories told to me;
Pergure yourself no more,
Drop down your defenses;
Show the world what you have,
Show everyone your heart.

Nothing left to be said,
Can be the greatest gift;
I write these words unto,
To attest to you to sift,
Through all the words you hear,
Because words are left to  
You to read and perceive,

They  might call us fools,
But I'll tell of how I,
Loved more, this way than that,
Saved and spent my sweet time,
The right way,
The honest way.

I've lived ways most have not,
And if anything more tragic
Than a lie doth exist,
It has to be the story,
Of the souls who know not,
Honesty, but prefer lies,
How they have been bound at the wrists
And ankles, blindfolded at the eyes.

sometimes
i dont know what to write down
sometimes
the papers too thin and
sometimes
it's the words
sometimes
i want to cry and theres
sometimes
when i can't.
sometimes
i can figure it out but
sometimes
when it comes to
sum time
it just doesn't add up
sometimes
when there is
sometime
before i'm gone
i take
some time
to remind myself how alright life is and
sometimes
it isnt but thats only
sometimes
and i really really want you to be okay
because these are some times
these lives, and youve had
some time
but not enough, not NEARLY enough.
sometimes
i don't know what to tell you.
sometimes,
you only listen for
some time,
and i don't know how to heal these wounds except with
some time.
but there are
some times when we're running OUT of time, but
sometimes,
there's too much, there are
sometimes
when the rain outweighs the
sun's time
and you're lost, but just give me
some time.
there will be some times
you'll be grateful you stuck around for
sometime
longer.
sometimes,
i won't be there but
sometimes,
maybe, you'll remember me
some, times
when you'll be happy, and those
some times
long ago, will be
some time
behind you.
sometimes,
you'll cry and
sometimes,
you won't because
sometimes
there isn't anything to cry over.

(sometimes
you won't know what to write down.
sometimes
the papers too thin and
sometimes,
it's the words.)