Although it seems ancient now,
and although it may mean nothing to you,
with the changing season,
and the cold settling in,
I am reminded heavily
of you
and the time that
we never spent together
and how my porch remains as empty
as it ever was,
even though it sure felt like
it was all reality.

Everyday I have to swallow my heart
back down to where it belongs.
When it feels so broken,
and it seems like it's trying to
escape your body,
and it feels like it just wants out
to get away from the pain,
only for a moment-
I pour the biggest glass of water I can,
hands shaking,
and force my bleeding heart back down inside myself,
as the cold rushes past my lips and
down my throat,
I finish it hastily,
gasping for air,
wishing that I would just drown instead.

Would it be better
if I hid everything
underneath a metaphor or simile?

Like thick suffocating blankets
that muffle my true meaning and stamp out light,
leaving you clutching at wisps
of air-
untangling what I'm trying to say?

Would it be best if I told you the truth
and said that you use your hair effectively
as a weapon?
A cluster of ever-changing colored swirls
where I can spiral into my own personal
hell.

Your arms
are millions and millions
of jellyfish-
soft, passive, dangerous.
Inviting.
I've never wanted to be cradled more.

Do you want me to promise
that I still think about the cataclysmic
infinity of your emerald eyes?
A Garden of Eden.
If I believed in God,
I'd say Adam and Eve took comfort
within them. And just like Adam and Eve,
realize what it feels like to be cast out.
When love became punishment.
When rules were broken.
When there was nothing left to feel
but loneliness and shame.

Something about this winter seems colder than ever.
Late.
Sudden.
All at once.
It's the type of cold I haven't felt in a long time. Lingering.
Something you can't get rid of.
A breath of fog in the air.
Old memories.
Air that replenishes you. Making things new.
Air you don't mind suffering for.
Chilled to the bone.
Fingers numb. Toes nonexistent.
But sometimes still, I stand on my porch, cold, dreaming of blankets, and cocoa, and you.
Snow falls on my skin. Chilling. A reminder of how cold it really is, and I have to pretend that you didn't cross my mind.

The words do not flow like they used to.
They hardly come to mind at all.
Maybe it's because I feel almost absolutely nothing
and am only comforted by the numbing sensation
of a love that is far too unreal.
All this time, I've been searching for something
and now, I feel like maybe
I've been searching for the wrong thing.
Maybe I've only been looking in the wrong places.
Maybe I'm too stubborn to accept the reality of a situation.
I'm afraid of a love that I can never feel.
I'm afraid that the distance between our bodies will always be kept
far greater than I can even fathom-
even if we were in the same room; holding hands.
I'm afraid the connections that our souls share
will quickly become tattered and cracked.
Maybe I was never destined for love.
Maybe I'm supposed to be alone forever.
Maybe I'm supposed to have my heart broken...
But, maybe, I'm supposed to break my own heart.
I think maybe I'm just meant to stay lonely.

God,
Just show me you're real.

I'm so tired of
you thinking that just being
a body is enough.

Show me something
meaningful.

It's easy to swipe right.
It's easy to say things you don't
mean to say.

It's obviously easy to say,
"I love you."

It's easier not to say anything at all.

Individuality.

I'm meaningless.
And so are you.

A construct of circumstance.
Biology.
Human nature.

Thank you for your lessons.

It's amazing how much you can miss a stranger.
It's amazing how much you wish you could hear their words.
Longing?

Maybe that isn't the right word.

You can admire a face
A perfect slender nose
Soft eyes that have seen more than you could ever imagine
Windows showing deep sadness-
A sweetness
She reflects your soul.

You might not know where they come from
Or where they are now
Or even their full name
But you know you enjoy their presence in your life, no matter how brief
Their words
Their stories
Their poems

It makes you feel full.
You can tell that she's wonderful,
elegant,
real,
infinitely deep.

And you're left,

longing...

between midnight and 3am.


But then again, maybe that's not the right word.

Why
Why
Why
Why
Can't
I
Ever
Just
Be
Happy?

I'd love to curl up with you tonight.
Feel you next to me.
Learn the pattern of your breaths.
I'd love to cuddle up in a blanket and watch
the sun dip lazily behind the mountains,
the golden rays reflecting your soul,
the breeze playing with your hair.
I want you to tell me the meaning behind each tattoo
and talk late into the night about life's important things.
I want to fall back, and look at the stars,
and as I look over at you, wonder how you're not up there with them.
Fingers interlocked,
souls dancing under receding moonlight.
Your presence, reflecting the world.

I fell in love with a wicked woman.
Her eyes smoldered black, and her heart burned twice as hot.
I showed her compassion and she showed me the door.
Her hair an inferno, her words scalded the skin.
A searing touch and  boiling smile, she dragged me down to ashes.
When the wind carried me away, I saw her charred soul,
and I let her burn alone.

You've got all these people exclaiming their creativity
and all these people ******* on about the special value of a person
but you'd never see any one of those people acting as if what they were
saying was true. Never would you see the popular guy go and talk to
the lesser girl. Never would he know her past her name. He wouldn't give
a **** either way about what made this miracle of a human being who she
is today. He couldn't care about how tough things are getting or
how lonely she is or how she feels about his eyes or how she longs
to make love with his soul.
You've got people claiming purity and innocence and how they
would never dare stoop so low as to degrade another human.
Put your clean hands out to the world. Show them how much
you've been scrubbing. But when the lights go out and nobody is
watching, all of those pretty people get together in their pretty world,
to laugh at all the rest, while they **** like a bunch of animals and
talk about how many drugs they've ingested within the past three days.
We wonder about the human condition. Why things are the way they are.
People crying everyday because of being treated less than human.
That is such an incredible amount of *******.
Want to fix something? ******* DO IT ALREADY!
You want to change your life? Want to say, "It's too hard! I can't! Life *****!?"
There are people dying everyday, praying to gods they don't believe in, just
for a few more seconds on this earth. If you want to change your life,
go talk to that guy who's crying. Go ask that girl about what her real passion in life is and what she'd rather be doing.
Go get to know somebody. Go and really get to know somebody. Inspire somebody.
Be somebody's reason to get up in the morning. Be somebody's reason to stay up at night.
Be somebody's reason to not give up on themselves. Be a savior. Care. Just please care.
Tell them that they should do the same. Change is not always something to be done alone.
Changing the world is a process that involves the whole world itself.
Don't just say how great you are and go on about how everybody has worth. Show somebody.
Mean it with all of your heart. I swear you're bound to make a few friends along the way.
I swear you will save somebody's life. And I promise with all of my heart that somebody will save yours.
Make a reaction. It has to come full circle.
And YOU if you're still reading this. Thank you. Really.
If YOU need somebody to talk to, talk to me. I'm here for YOU I mean it with every fiber of my being.
I love you, whoever you are. You don't have to be alone.

Don't wait any longer.
Drop that blanket
and let me warm you up
instead.
Tonight I know
I don't want
to worry about anything
but you.

I can feel you
lying near me
as you keep me warm
beneath the night sky.

And I no longer
find myself
looking at those stars
because they can't
compare to the beauty
that is now lying beside me.

I hope that this time
it's not a dream.
As I feel you breathing,
staring at me,
trying to figure out my
face,
while I cross my fingers that
it's enough to keep you around.


You sleep.


I try to figure out
what it is you're dreaming
as I trace your figure
in the dark,
night continues
and the frost sets in.

You start to shiver
and I do my best
to draw you closer
in an effort to keep you warm.

You smile
through your slumber
and I fall for
the little lines
it casts across your face.

I sleep.

When I wake up.
You've gone.
It was only a dream.
And I find myself wishing
you had the same one
underneath the same stars.

Either way,
I know that when you woke up,
you got out a bowl
and poured in some cereal
first.

And I swear to God
That the passion burned
more fierce than it has in a
long time as
her words scorched hot
across the night sky
and left burns upon
my tattered soul
only to leave scars that
I would not forget.

There was somebody out there.

I cradled myself in thoughts of you to keep me safe.
Now I lay cradled in the arms of another empty night.
Reveling in your silence.
Wrapped up in abandoned promises.
Lost in your words.
I love how close you are to the distance.
As if I could slip away
and fall between the cracks of the mattress and bed frame,
only to be turned over and over again in the ripples of the sheets-
pushed away by your tireless storm.
I cling to the reminence of what used to be a sturdy ship.
Now just a board of something that once was.
A distant memory.
A hope
that maybe these broken pieces can bring me to your shore.

I think about your skin pressed against mine
and how I'm sure it would feel like an ******.
You wreak of *** and
I bet those lips taste of blood.

Yo,
Yeah you,
Brother, best friend.

I'm doing just fine.

I'm tending to those curls my mother gave me
And yeah, honey, I can still rhyme.

You can call me daddy
Actually, call me sir
But nothing will ever compare you to her.

Yeah.
We was cool.
Totally.
I didn't care that he was on your phone.
Not even on your mind.
I just want you to know it hurt when you lied.

At least a thousand times.

But it's cool, little one,
Cuz so did I.

I just hope he appreciates that miracle on your thigh.

Spit in my face.
Whatever, it's easy to see u don care.

But sincerely, cute thing.
Love gets you nowhere.

Tell the world-
The ******* Galaxy for all I care.

But when I needed a real woman;
My person,
You weren't there.

If you think that I care who you're *******,

You're wrong,
As long as I'm still walking art
*******

I'm strong.

Shoot your words through me
make me quiver
please
take me down
and make me feel again.
Show me what it is to
burn in love.
I haven't felt in so long
it's an unbearable drone
a lifeless sensation as though
I'm just piloting a shell
of a body.
I don't remember the last
time it was that I itched with
passion
when  I was filled with emotion
and creativity that erupts from the hands
and the mouth
and the mind
and the soul.
It's been too long since I've felt
and now
I've got nothing left to
myself.
It has been much too long
since I've felt a thing.
Hurt me please.
Break me.
**** me.
I've got nothing left to
say.
I can't do this anymore.
I need inspiration.

I shouldn't be telling you
that I think you're beautiful,
or that I think of you more often than I would like to admit.
And I shouldn't tell you that I must have read every single line 500 times.
I shouldn't say that I think you're perfect,
or that you make my heart flutter.
I shouldn't let you know that I look forward to seeing your name in my inbox.
I shouldn't say that I have never seen anybody radiate grace quite the way you do.
I shouldn't tell you that I fell asleep last night,
thinking of you.

And the later it gets
The more I find myself
Writing because
I just can't seem to
get her off my mind
and I wonder
what it is she thinks of me
when she inadvertently
captured my heart
from 1000 miles away

I still write you love letters.
Love letters to your ghost.
Somebody that I might have known once
but view only as a stranger in a crowd of familiar faces.
I still write these love letters for nobody.
All about you.
The nothingness.
The emptiness.
An untitled painting.
An overused quote.
Unattributed.
Maybe I still write about the girl that I fell in love with in the sixth grade.
Or maybe I still write about the girl I cried about in high school.
Or maybe I'm writing about a girl that shares miles between me in the same bed.
Some small thing with fiery hair. No. Maybe brunette.
Tall. Definitely. Thighs and an ***.
Tired eyes. Green.
No. Brown.
I'm still writing about you.
A love letter for somebody that cares.
Somebody that realizes my words are all I have.
That doesn't brush them away.
Annoying. A crowd of gnats.
My words are for you.
For whomever will take them.