A thousand years-
      I can't make it
      for in every moment I can make a tear
      
A thousand reasons-
      of loving you
      and every pain that's hard to bear

A thousand smiles-
      they're gone away
      now I am in this dark corner again

A thousand sighs-
      they make me free
      unchain this heart from so much pain

A thousand wounds-
      they make me sick
      and give me so much aching fears

A thousand words-
       please come to mend
       and wipe away my thousand tears!

I remember you told me that the first thing about me that you fell in love with were my eyes
You said it was because at first you couldn't tell what color they were
Maybe the color of coffee with too much milk
Or the shade of a dozen olives sitting in a mason jar
You couldn't help but notice the splashes of blue
That twinkled like a handful of icy diamonds sewn into an emerald dress
Mystery eyes
Mystery girl
Is what you said
And from that moment on you let me call you late at night
And kiss you on the cheek
And leave notes in the pockets of your sweatshirts
And when you told me for the first time that you loved me
There was not a trace of doubt in me as I looked into your own curious eyes
Pooling like maple syrup
As amber as a drop of sap
I always was a sucker for brown eyed boys

you're nervous
'take a drink, it'll calm you down'

you're nervous
'here, take a hit, a little **** will do ya good'

you're nervous
'come sit next to me, I'll make sure nothing bad happens to you'

now you're drunk
now you're baked
now you're being touched, felt, caressed

but it doesn't matter.
you're no longer nervous.
you can't feel.
you don't care.

you're exactly what they want you to be
no longer timid
no longer shy
no longer *nervous

Writing this poem
Is as difficult as
Translating my thoughts into accurate words.
Even though I'm not good,
I admit that I try.

I can't say the same about you.

We talk about
The same
Things
Every
*******
Day.

You don't trust me enough to just let me in.

"Friend"

If that is what you are.
Or is that just a title I have,
So that you don't feel so alone?


You are a puzzle.
Yes.
You.

This stupid little game is making me sick.

Every **** day
I find out
I'm missing another piece
Of the bigger picture.
Of you.

I can barely even put the pieces together.

And I'm just wondering if I should leave you

**Unfinished.

And in my words
and the depths of my poetry,
i begin to unravel,
the real me.