You are the bags under my eyes
The bruises on my arms
And the cuts on my leg.

You are hour 50 of sleepless torture
8 cups of coffee a day
And another regretted bite.

You are the "I'm fine"
The little fibs that leave my lips
As part of my daily routine.

You are the tornado of thoughts
The flood of blood
And my beautiful nightmare.

This is who you are to me.

Can
you
please
just
let
me
forget
you?

My birthday passed again
to you as if it were just another day.
An estranged lover forgotten.

People say that the window to the soul is through the eyes, but the door to the soul is through the words.

Pass me a cigarette
I'd like to let you leave my mind
Along with all the regret
And memories of you
That make my heart fret
To ever love again.
So darlin, pass me a cigarette.

If I haven't posted in a while don't think of me as gone. I remain here waiting for my inspiration to hit me in the form of a freight train. And if my inspiration never comes; dear Juliet, I still love you.