The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

I am trapped
Halfway to heaven, infinites upon infinities disguised as stars.

I just want to feel like I’m more than the dark and empty space between them.

it said,
           the true joy will settle in:
           a contentment from within
and I will take care of you
oh, you need not fret, child
           you need not convince yourself that you're satisfied
and it’s okay to be hurt
it’s okay to feel this pain
           because in order to be healed, you have to be hurting;
           in order to be made complete, there must be a deep lacking
and to be truly free, you will need me
           so let the true joy settle in, just let me set you free.

He was cursing again.
The brittle drops of saline etched
their ways down his face,
carving evaporation trails.

He just couldn't fight
the feeling
anymore,
like that stupid ******* song.

Lashing out, he destroyed it all.

Smiling, he died.

But how far have we come?
The miles we've traversed are benevolent ice:
we fly,
frictionless,
into each other.

Love destroys.
That is only to say,
"Love makes room."

And baby,
you are my perfect world.

Quiet...
   .. .
      . . .
         . . . there are feathers here.

The blue you use to wear me clean,
knows nothing of the day-stains
I wear.

They do not care.

I am purified by your blue,
deep, a shade beyond the glow of nostalgia.

Come to me again, in this copper fever dream,
rest your temple before me,
that I may make an offering unto you,
oh Queen.

I could only count so high.
That was my regret.
It's a secret I'll always tell.
So accept me, my sweet meats and myrhh,
toma mis lágrimas, y arreglame.