and the cruel part of the world
claims another one.
the next day
the weather is sunny, clear skied and warm.
but somehow you feel detached.
the world owes us nothing.
it continues running
while our hearts want to dig heels in
to stop
just have a single moment to think
and understand...
we owe the world nothing.
and it's time is non stop
it's continuously running
whether someone dies and disappears
or our hearts finally stop
we owe the world nothing
and sadness is an emotion
the cruel part of the world
doesn't take the time to feel.
it just takes.

|m.s.

people say
love is different than a crush.
but i know i love you.
people say
then prove it.
unfortunately
i don't have the words
to tell you.
but i have the words
to show you.
each and every poem.

|m.s.

i think of being painless
so i can cut and remove
excess skin,
so i can be beautiful
but as i sit here
and look to myself
in the mirror.
who am i kidding?,
when the paper cut
on my finger
hurts like a *****.

|m.s.

i'm starting
to think of you
less and less.
but each time i do
it's increasingly
more painful.
and i don't know why
you're becoming
lesser and lesser
maybe it's me
finally understanding
what summer was for.
to have distance from you
and drop you from my heart
like a lever being pulled
and you falling through the bottom.
or maybe the thought of you
is just starting to become
so painful that i am
blocking you.
what am i going to do
in one month from now?

|m.s.

magician,
dear magician,
can you see my hand
within the crowd.
please choose me.
introduce me,
take hold of my hand.
for  your next trick,
make me disappear.

|m.s.

i find myself staying up
earlier and earlier each day
thoughts continue swarming
like wasps.
sleep is the only thing that draws them away, like flame.
but i can't fall asleep.
i'm not skilled
at creating fires.

unfortunately
for myself:
i can't seem to see past
the pounds and
the skin blemishes
to the beauty beneath
because our eyes only run
across the surface.
only some are able to pierce,
past the skin,
even further
to the soul.