There was a sunflower
that stood alone on a hill
in the darkest of days.
Still, it lit up the field
and inspired me to write these words.
How many days had it been there,
alone yet amazing?
So lucky I was to find this hidden treasure,
its seed now planted in this heart.

Even when I'm happy,
there is a certain sadness.
Even in my words, my smile,
there is a hint of melancholy
that I cannot escape.

It's not that
I'm not loved,
it's that I am loved
but it doesn't seem
to fill the hole
you left
long
ago.

Sometimes we never know
what to say at times like these;
just hollow thoughts
roaring through a hollow body
that didn’t want the awkward silences
to be their legacy.

Hollow are the
promises we make
after midnight.

I feel nothing
for the greatest pleasures
and terrible tragedies-
this is how it has always been.
Call it a lack of emotion,
an emptiness, a hollowness-
I carry that around in my soul,
my blood and my bones.

Your words are hollow.
Each one can be tossed
into the sea and drift back to you.
You will never navigate
these shores again.

Is 'hollow' an emotion?
It is thought of as feeling nothing,
but isn't that enough to warrant an emotion?
Maybe we need a better word for
what this feeling of hollowness really is-
is it not something we can feel
deep within our gut?
Is there such thing as an
emotionless state of being or
is the only way to achieve that
in death?

I don't think I
have felt love for
far longer than I
care to admit,
so what have I
been doing all
these years?

I feel nothing
for the greatest pleasures
and terrible tragedies-
this is how it has always been.
Call it a lack of emotion,
an emptiness, a hollowness-
I carry that around in my soul,
my blood and my bones.

I
don't care
anymore.
I feel myself hollowing out
as the world grows bleaker
by the day.
These people
are termites and I
just don't care
anymore.

You got used to the
shadows and solitude
where you always felt
most at home.

Your lips-
the doorway to that special place
I have made my home.
There's nowhere I feel safer than
beneath the roof of your tongue,
within the walls of your mouth.
We store our treasured memories
in the attic and
house the butterflies in the basement.
At last,
I am home.

I regret to inform you,
but I'm not home anymore.
I have left that place and all
the memories that remained.
One day I hope to forget
all the pain stored inside
the place I called my home.
Indeed, I have moved away from you
and I am not looking back.

Going home isn't
necessarily returning
to your house,
sometimes it's about returning
to a certain someone that
makes you feel
at home.

Her heart was
where I found my home.
Her thoughts and words
open up doors I could never find
and her eyes painted the walls
in beauty only rivaled by her own.
This is the house I wish
to spend my days.

Life is hollow; life is pain
I’m never coming here again
There’s no one left, left at all
You built me up to make me fall

It’s a sick world, sick, sick, sick
It’s a world so full of hypocrites
It’s a world I can’t relate
you fill me up with so much hate

I don’t feel like myself today
I need some sort of getaway
This place will surely melt my brain
And you all cause me so much pain

I drink the poetry
that flows from your mind
like rivers of honey.
So sweet are your thoughts
and so pure is your soul.

The burden of hope
is bound to take its toll
on me,
yet it is all that
keeps me going-
such a dangerous thing
hope can be.

Of all that I know,
of all that I have seen,
you are the only thing that shines
and the one that gives me life.
Nothing is as pure as you
and as long as you exist,
there is still hope.

Hope
has a way
of burning a
hole in your
heart.

One day
you'll look back
and be glad things did
not work out.
Sometimes,
someone new takes you
by surprise and you wouldn't
have had it any
other way.

As the clouds as my floor
And the red sky at my door
I feel my thoughts running through
There’s only so much i can do
Hours slowly pass, the night climbs
I’ll drift to sleep to pass the time
But it doesn’t work
I’m going beserk.

Hi,
I know
it's been a while-
have you been okay?
It's okay if you're not okay,
you don't have to be strong
all the time.

It only takes three words
to ask “how are you”
but I'm so selfish to just do that
while all my attention is for you
and only you.

All too often can I
count with one hand,
the number of those
who care to ask-
"How are you?"
And much lesser of those
who honestly want to
hear my answer.

Most of the time,
I am too afraid
and too in awe
to ask myself
how I found you.

Yes,
it's true-
I still dream about you,
and I still write about
all those nights I told the moon
about you and your smile.
I would wake up the next morning
with a smile of my own
knowing that you exist.
So this one is for every smile
and every song we shared.
This one is for those countless hours
on the phone-
they flew by, didn't they?
This one is for all the postcards
I tried so hard to hold on to-
they were all I had left so,
most of all,
this one is how I say
goodbye.

If you ask me how
I can say I love you,
I'll tell you you’re the breath
I need to say it
over and
over again.

How do I say
“I miss you”
in a way that
will make your heart
ache as much
as mine does?

look them in the eye,
and kiss them deeply
until all of their rage is gone.
swallow their pain and fury whole,
become the storm yourself,
learn to survive yourself

Sometimes we just need a hug
for no reason at all.
Sometimes its best to
bury yourself in someone
and in that space, find yourself.
Sometimes we just need the warmth
of skin against skin and
in that warmth, find joy.

This pain will fade.
Pinch yourself once you
can feel again and
remember what it feels
to be human-
to be alive.

Sometimes it's okay to disassociate,
to tune out the world and be sad.
Go for a walk, put on some music,
do what you need to do
to ease the pain.
Remember,
there is no rush
for this is what it means
to be human.

Humanity hurt each other-
they would hurt me.
Despite my cynicism,
I adored them,
I helped them.
But the hurt continued...
I don’t do that anymore.

This love
hurts so good-
I wonder how long
the 'good' part
will last.

you move like rain,
you move like the storm.
Sometimes soft,
sometimes heavy.
You end my droughts,
leaving a rainbow,
to clear my doubts,
in sun or in snow.

Ah, nevermind,
anyway, wherever you are right now,
whatever you are doing,
I wish you all the best
this world can offer-
always and forever.
You deserve it.
And though our lives
don't always go as planned,
when it pulls you down and
drags you through Hell,
remember you have come so far.
You can get through it-
I’m sure you’re still the
strong person I remember.
And when you feel lost, sad,
hollow, lonely or exhausted,
understand that it’s okay
to feel them all.
You’re okay.
Everything is going to be okay.
Let it flow, let it go.
Good things are waiting for you
and let me remind that if you ever need
someone to talk to,
you'll know where to find me.
Don’t hesitate to call,
I’ll be here with open arms.
Just because we don't keep in touch,
does not mean I don't still adore you to the core.
But more importantly,
please don’t forget that you matter.
You are adored.

You can’t keep me out
You thought you had a choice
You thought you had a thought of your own
I’ll destroy you and waste all your time
I’ll make you think I’m all there is to life
I use you up as you go down the line
I am lust

I can warm you like a
cup of tea on a winter's day,
I can chill you like a
winter in the U.K.
I can lift you up and
send you reaching for the stars
or I can make you feel
the weight of a thousand pulsars.
I am the worst feeling in this paradigm,
while, at the same time,
I am the best feeling you can conjure;
I am nostalgia.

I am a bug
You are a garden
Just one more hug
And I’m in heaven

I am an island
You are a sea
Leaving me stunned
And no longer empty

I am a comet
You are a star
Missing you’s become a habit
That leaves me with a scar

I am a storm-
a trail of destruction
that follows me each day.
I am the thunder,
the pain and paranoia
that goes boom in the night.
I am the black clouds-
I am my own black hole
and this anger cannot
escape.

I am no doctor,
but this love you are describing,
may be in your heart.
Find her, or you could die.
Or maybe this love is a poison
leaving your body.
Withdrawal *****, I know,
but then again, I'm no doctor,
I am but a stranger.
Your story has been told,
a billion times over.
Do you have a pen?
Do you have a heart?

I am the god, I am the sea
protector of humanity
atom bombs and all the kaiju
they’re no match, you know that it’s true

I am the king, I am the beast
rage and wrath have now been unleashed  
I am the wonder of this world
there’s not a thing I couldn’t hurl

A cold spring night
in a grim and dragging April
I am thriving everywhere
I am the dark, I am the shadow
I am the moon, I am the snow.
Do not talk of day
I’ve heard that word before
Now but a distant memory
Fading from my dreams
I am the wolf, I am the char
I am the storm, I am the stars
I built this sea of clouds
So that darkness may rule
I have no need for light
for I am the night.

She said she
was empty.
I still thought she
was everything.

We all wander,
sometimes too much,
about those who truly care
for us.
We believe that no one
would care if we weren’t here-
but think about all the ones that
you have ever cared about and
how they have no idea about it.
I had a college teacher I
haven’t seen in too long
yet I still tell people how much
of an impact he had even though
he doesn't have a clue.
I have old coworkers,
people I met through travels,
and friends turned acquaintances
and haven’t seen in years
who I would be devastated about
if something happened to them.
We secretly care about so many people
but act like it’s impossible that
anyone cares about us.
Impossible - people do.
more than you think,
even if you can’t see it.

Was I in love
with you or the idea
of you I had in my head,
my heart and my dreams?
Is it possible to be
heartbroken by
an idea?

There are few
who really know me
at all.
Sure,
some will know a few
facts about me-
they'll try to piece me together
in a way that makes sense to them.
Sometimes I believe the idea of me
that they have created
or perhaps I don't know
myself at all.

Maybe
I was in love
with the idea of
who you could have been
more than who
you really are.