Unfinished,
unpolished,
unfurnished;
unpublished.
Like us, a draft
of what can be called
"the both of us."
A draft created
that's open for change.

A change
to be better
---better
than who we are
or what we are
in the midst of the conflict
that floats around us
for the sake of us
for the both of us
---for each other.

A change
to be smoother
---smoother
with no mistakes,
with everything
in order;
consistent,
and coherent
even with the dialogues
we say that matter.

A change
to be clearer
---clearer,
meaning it is
at least what it is
meant to be conveying
with no underlying
vague wordings
when it comes
to our feelings
---for one another.

But that's there all is:
a draft
of what could be called
the both of us;
a product
of what we can become
if we make it become;
a product
of the possibilities
of what can be us,
of what might be us,
of what is it between us
between the fragments
of the words,
the lines,
and the series
of all of them
that constantly paint
faint descriptions of us,
descriptions
created [fabricated]
in my mind
like a work of fiction,
of pure imagination.

Unfinished,
unpolished,
unfurnished;
unpublished,
l­ike the poems
I wrote for us;
like the poems
about us;
like us, a draft.

write with love
for love

write out your anger
before it becomes a danger

write out your pain
in case it gets heavy inside your chest

write out your ideas and thoughts that flow in your head
don't lose them
they can become a masterpiece

Always write out
who are you
if you're losing yourself

writing in my dreams
writing in my sleep

I never want to stop myself
from expressing myself

you pulled the words from my head
and threw them far away

I'll get them back

i was always so incredulous
to the things you would say,
because secretly i knew
you lied to get your way.

i trust my intuition,
& i listen to my gut,
but i would look into your sad, soulful eyes,
& keep my mouth shut.

but love is so powerful,
& it makes you do crazy things,
i want you so bad,
but is this what our future brings?

being weak when your around,
& always coming up with an excuse?
i wish i didn't love you,
this is emotional abuse.

Sometimes I spend too much time
Writing lists
Hoping it will help my brain
Organize all of these thoughts
That never seem to stay in one place
For very long.
Sometimes I don't eat, so I can feel
That familiar empty
Hollow
Space
Inside of me
That reminds me of when I had
So much focus and only one thought.
"Stay in control".
Sometimes I eat everything
That makes me feel sick.
So I can remember that I am
A waste
Out of control
Disgusting.
Every word I write screams
"LOOK AT ME"
And its just
Too loud.
So if I direct the letters into words that dont resemble the hurt then maybe it will quiet down and I can get back to the routine I have so lovingly crafted
From day one.