I like to write as if I'm sensitive and caring,
and yet I'm filled with conceited thoughts such as of what I'm wearing.
I look into the stars and pretend that there's more,
then I can only think of who'll be my next *****.
I'm supposed to let the words of love and care flow out,
but it appears my heart has taken a different route.
I want to believe that I can think beyond such simple joys,
only to realize my head is filled with devious ploys.

To ****, to feel, to ******, to flail,
my mind is filled with such trivial hail.
If only I could change and be more sophisticated,
but my whole life I've only procrastinated.
Thinking of when I will be a man,
when I haven't realized I've only ran.

I want to write a poem
with similes, metaphors and so on.
one that can describe your face, hair
or even your smell.
I will create words
which make it seem as if you are perfect in every way
so that the reader can feel some form of emotion.
But I can't do that.
It isn't because I'm incapable
I've studied and felt, and described with meaning.
It's because I don't want to
Because you don't deserve it.

What is it that we see within each others torn heart,
During the times of dire need we have grown apart.
Still grasping for one another as if it were all the same,
And yet we both realize have become tormentingly mundane.
Is it these memories that tie us to this mental prison,
Or the belief that you and I can fight this cataclysm.
Should we salvage all that we have learned to know,
Or is it time for us to let go..?

Your hands grow moist as we start to slip,
Oh how I remember the days we were attached by the hip.
To feel your breath like a warm summers breeze,
Our hearts were like a puzzle that was finished with ease.
Every bit of you matched up with me,
When together, we finally felt free.

Something happened that shook the puzzle loose,
Suddenly I began to imagine tying a noose.
Our pieces were once so tightly attached,
It appears that we need some form of patch.
Our pieces clash without any excuse,
You are like a bomb with a short fuse.

Now we search halfheartedly in order to be complete,
But to search and learn what we lost would be an extraordinary feat.
We both hope to be completed together,
But we've yet to grasp we may be lost forever.