you always found love
in places it never existed
in the cracks on the cushion
of my favorite chair
at the bottom of a
coffee cup the morning after
caressing each other
through light linen sheets
and heavy panting
everyone you came into
contact with filled you with joy
you found love in the back seat
of a car owned by a stranger
you found love behind a building
wrapped in cold wind and
unrecognizable fingers
with a heart that accepted everyone
you forgot yourself
I never expected anything
and you gave everything
your heart remained open
from an old intruder that
tore your doors off it’s hinges
left you naked in the night
ever since then nothing ever
stayed hidden except
your inability to love, right?

she was a poet,
and he was her pen.
in him,
she always found words to write,
songs to sing,
thoughts to think.

he'd smile,
and kiss her softly,
and say,
"write me a poem."

and she would.
she'd put poe,
and whitman,
and shakespeare to shame,
and she'd write a poem that made his eyes water.

she'd compare him
to a rose with no thorns,
a book with no end,
a world with no poverty --
the things we all wish for,
but can never attain.

//

he asked her one day,
"what am i?"
and so she picked up her pen,
and began the usual:
you are the shining sun after a hurricane,
with rays that open the eyes of the blind.
but he stopped her after those two lines,
and said that this time,
he didn't want any metaphors,
or similes,
or analogies.
he wanted the truth.

and so on that night,
as he slept,
the poet picked up her pen,
and she wrote.

she wrote,
then thought better of it,
then started over again,
and this cycle continued well into the early hours of the morning,
until suddenly,
she wrote, frantic,
if i can't love you for what you really are,
have i ever really loved you at all?

this, too,
she thought better of,
condemning it to the trash.

the next morning the poet was gone,
her final work a mere two words:

i'm sorry.

(a.m.)

vulnerability is the worst emotion
time after time you try to leave your shell
practicing some type of
self promotion
telling others you really need to
work on what you say
oh how they encourage you without delay
“but you're amazing you shouldn't hide”
“you are not alone”
“you can't just avoid everyone all your life”
my only fear isn’t just everybody else
vulnerability has this way of
taking hold of your tongue
regretting every word you speak
and don’t speak
your worst enemy becomes yourself
makes me want to scream in frustration
I know I can be something amazing
I want to run forward without
looking back ever again
I try to so hard to force these
sentences out of me
to keep some hope about
being accepted as just who I am
some days no matter what I try
I must accept defeat
maybe instead of using
words this time
I'll use something like
a double-edged knife
I'll slit my stomach open and
spill all that i’ve kept inside
would that be enough
would people understand me then
because as of now whenever
I use my head
they never seem to quite get it
people they always shoot
me down without a use of
even a reply
with my whole self laid out
on the ground they surely
should understand all that I am
and plus I read this was
an honorable way to die