I'm here sitting
alone,
the smell of coffee runs through
my veins,
some music i probably will forget
in a few years arguing with
the thought of you,

But I'm here,
I'm here,
writing about what's happening

pretty boring huh?

i call myself a poet
but i can't use high metaphors,

i call myself a poet
but i can't describe fully
how you make me feel

i call myself a poet

but what am i?

I'm just a kid
scared of life
finding new ways to cope
searching for someone to love,
desperate,
not holding unto my dreams
how can i choose with my mind
what's right for the heart to choose.

and you see?
don't you see?

don't worry i can't either

i can't see how great i am
i can't see how other people see me
i wish i could.

i want to believe this was a dream
or
a nightmare at that.

But at last.
I'm here wishing that in another life
i could be with you,
or
maybe in other deaths,

i crave your touch,
i crave you..
with coffee waking up my senses
like a kid in summer waking up early
to go play with his friends.

i wish things were different,
so i wouldn't have to wish.

Lately
I don’t feel close
to poetry.

It feels elusive.
Unfamiliar.
Once it spoke to me.
But now it’s mute.

It sits back
and doesn’t look
at me.

If I call out
it doesn’t hear.

Lately poetry is
like that demon
I used to want
to reappear.

i’m convinced that
i have met an angel in real life,
wings spread and
halo glowing,
lips soft like
the sheets we’re tangled in
sweet like honey, showered
with stars from above
i am
entrapped, ensorcelled
by all that you are.
-a.c.b

it's terrifying
to pour your heart, your soul
the parts of yourself that
could break you,
into something that is not so much of a thing
but instead a piece of your very
being,
and have it turned down,
rejected,
spit on.
how do you recover
from such a loss?
-a.c.b

if i get the chance
to write a letter to say goodbye,
i’ll probably leave it blank
— don’t ask me why.

if i get the chance
to collect all our pictures
and put it in a collage,
i’ll probably not do it all
— again, don’t ask me why.

if i get the chance
to see you one last time:
hold you again and kiss you goodbye,
i’ll probably take it
but turn around at the last second
with my head down as i cry.

don’t ask me why.

don’t ask me why
i’ll waste all these chances
to say farewell,
because our love ended
and it didn’t end well.

don’t ask me why
i’ll give in to my sadness
when we could’ve had saved this
because
even if i tried to give my best
it’ll just end up the same;
a big old mess.

don’t ask me why
i’d rather leave than stay,
why i choose to walk away,
because all i’ll probably say is:
we tried
but love ran away.

You look into my eyes
and I allow;
Although I know through it
you look at yours;
I'm nothing but an object:
Something to get what you want.
Never the one desired.
At a loss for words,
Beaten up by distractions.
I'm tired but I can't yield;
The world never cared
for unannounced rejects
like me.
The only way I can escape
is to die.
And I can't change my mind.
I'm sorry.