You told me you love me
So much that you could die for me

Little did I know you would **** me
And make me die for you.

I'm on a strict diet of
red wine and smoke
as I train for a marathon
of loneliness, self-discovery, and
moving on.

Letting you go was crushing,
and I still fight the
urge at least once a day
to unblock your number
just so I can say hello.

Nearly everything takes me back to you,
whether it's a sunset I know you'd cherish
or a poem I know you'd
want to analyze with me.
You live in the tree's green leaves
and in the smiles of strangers.
I feel you next to me as I
toss and turn in my bed,
and I smell you in the candles
that are supposed to soothe me.

It seems cruel that you can't be around,
and my heart often
threatens my head for *******
a good thing up.
But the good I had with you
was bad for me,
and I know I need to let myself
be broken so that I can
one day be full again.

I'm on a strict diet of
red wine and smoke
as I replace the love I have for you
with love I'm finding of and
for myself.

It was maybe just a whisper.
You and I,
Sitting by the window
And waiting for the sun to burn.
Watching as the wind blew steadily
And the leaves fell to the ground.
And this whisper,
As soft as it was inaudible
Became a voice.
Something distinct
Yet residing in the background.
The skies were turning grey
And there loomed this morbid
Atmosphere of unfortunate misery
Mingled with a sense of lost cause.
We sat by the window
Waiting for the sun to burn.
And this voice became louder
And no more singular.
It was no more a hallucination
But rather a collective conscience.
And our thoughts became one
Cradling our sense of union.
That flame we never blew out
Became the wildfire within us.
And now sitting by the window
Listening to the world sing its one song
Here I am, with you
No more in a blazing inferno
But a raging fire of change.

When the universe conspires against you and your will
When every bit of logic seems to be non-existent
And when you're tired. So tired that you can barely breathe without thinking about it.
There's still hope.
For it is the last thing you'll ever lose.

"It's time."
You say to yourself.
A hundred times a day.
To let go of something.
To begin something.
Isn't this the gist of life?
Isn't this all that that matters?
All it takes is one step.
One big courageous step.
Just one big courageous step at a time.

Once broken with innocence,
Built again with care.
If shattered on purpose,
Pieces wouldn't be found.
As for the ship in the bottle,
She'll find another sea
And another sky
Or a maelstrom of deceit
Or maybe create maelstroms of her own.
For she knows no bottles anymore.
Why the false sense of security?
When she can have a crew of her own!
Without worrying about the shattered glass
And it's piercing dust
That cuts through her.
That's been cutting through her.
All this while.