My tears smeared the ink in my journal. All the poems I wrote for you all one ******* mess.....
I tried to make it better but all I did was make it worse.

Maybe that was a metaphor of our love.
I tried so badly to glue our broken pieces

As soon as you left I couldn't  write a thing. My pen ran out of ink and my hand froze with aspiration you would come back.
I have so many Ideas but it's to much to write down.
A part of me doesn't even want to write down your name because you don't deserve my thoughts.
You don't deserve me staying up till 3 am wondering what you're thinking of me.
Do you miss me?
Or was this your plan.

XXXIII.
There was the Door to which I found no Key:
There was the Veil through which I could not see:
Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee
There was - and then no more of Thee and Me.

Silence is the loudest sound of them all.
The deafening emptiness, the stir in my mind.
I am alone.  I am alone.  
I am alone.

Silence with you was different
Than silence alone.
Because silence with you
Still had you in it.

Silence alone
Makes me wonder
If silence with you
Is better than silence from you.
Or if my quiet, but raging mind,
Is better than my heart in your quiet,
but raging hands.

I am a castle of glass.

I've had stones cast at me.
Rocks thrown my way.
The wind has shook my walls.

I've had too many cracks to count.

But I've still got my foundation.

So I will keep standing, ever so tall.

And life will keep casting its stones, ever so painfully.

But there is no stone powerful enough,

To shatter this castle of glass.