I was one too.
Taking pleasure in pains of the
Past; addicted nearly, to the
Pity and attention
Of others.

Now I keep it locked away.
Private pearls of an adventure life,
Wounds long healed;
Faded scars. My smiles now deserved.
I wish the same contentment

To all those others, the
Happy unhappy. Who can only
Recognize themselves
In broken
Mirrors.

.....(that I only just look tired to you.)

I'm glad
     (that my sullen, shadowed eyes
     only look deprived of sleep)
              ((and that my quiet and trembling
              mouth only whispers thoughts
              of fatigue.))

(It's a comfort to know
that I have enough control
Over My emotions
To make you think something
Entirely far from the truth....)

I'm glad....
      (That my sadness just looks
       Worn out to you.)

Do not fall in love with a poet.
She will feed you galaxies
until you fall sick in her brown eyes.
Then, she'll steal the stars from your breaths,
pin them proudly to her chest,
and claim that she's the night.

And soon you'll miss blue skies,
and summer highlights in her curls.
And she'll ramble in her sleep,
say things she doesn't mean,
and write poems about
how she could never be the right girl.

But, when you think you've had enough,
her words will somehow pull you right back.
Because despite her moonlit dreams,
she's just what you need,
to fill up lonely blue lines
about all the things you lack.

certain pieces of me
still want you by my side
still want to hear the sound of your voice
but they're like fallen leaves in autumn
while the wind that blows and scatters them
are the pieces of me
that never want to see you
and never want to talk to you
ever again