I feel helpless.
Like a very small fish
in a very small bowl.
But sometimes,
you make me feel
like an even smaller fish
in an infinitely vast ocean.

I am torn apart by the currents of your anger-
Tossed and shaken,
Until I am left confused and
Alone
in the depth of your problems,
which you choose not to share with me;
and watch in enjoyment
as I struggle to figure things out for myself.
But, at the end of the day, I know I will be captured yet again,
only to be placed back into my suffocating home-
where you tap on the glass,
until I turn
belly-up.

You changed your
picture and it made me so
happy to see
even though I can see less of you now
and I miss that smile of yours
but my, does this photo accentuate those
beautiful eyes
The way the light
radiates from your face is
amazing
as it contrasts against the
dark frame of your hair
please, my darling,
won't you have some
cocoa with me?
It's rather chilly tonight.
Please, come a little closer
nuzzle yourself
into me
like you
used to.
Whisper secrets.
Make me laugh.
Make me blush.
Besides, I don't want you to be cold.

Nature usually has properties
Purely on its own
Undisturbed by man.
I feel the weight and shatter,
Born again.
I'm bad at my job, bad with the fam, a terrible friend.
I just wish I would shatter,
Be born again.
I didn't ask for a name,
Not human grace.
I hate repetition.
Guess, '**** me', again, I hate this place.
I didn't ask to be here, so here's the slightest A-B.
**** all your standards of poetry.
Beauty can die and so can you,
It's not about that.
Who will remember you?

Don't ever let somebody
determine your self-esteem -
ever.
You are more precious than all the stardust in the universe.
So what if he doesn't like you?
Never destroy yourself because of a stupid boy.
So what if she doesn't understand how you felt?
Don't change who you are because of a selfish girl.

The one that you need to look towards for strength is yourself.

My dear,
I never meant to hurt you
never would I mean to
When I say I haven't felt in so
long
I'm talking of other things
Things that boil me up
and make me have to
let out my frustrations
and passions
You do nothing but
bring me up when I am down
because all I've got to do is think of you
and I'm alright
When I haven't felt
it's of other things to
make what I say interesting
I'm sure I said before
I feel I write best when I'm angry
or sad
but you've proved me wrong every time
so forgive me, my love
because as always
these words were meant
for
you.
Please don't forget that.

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.

You move me like nobody else can,
or has,
still.

It's hard for me to tell,
because sometimes I think that I tend to
force circumstances to make things about me-
but I hope that those words were meant to be mine.

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.

Girlfriend left, again.
Car broke down.
Went outside,
Watched a cricket die.

I love the way you stare at me blankly from behind your coffee.
You take slow, painstaking sips...
It suggests exciting ***.
I love the way you sensuously lick your lips,
every time you put the cup down.
I love the way you're not flirting with me.  
I love that you tell me your **** looks amazing in those leggings.

I know.  

I love the way you say my name-
distantly,
boringly,
disinterestedly.
Your mind a million miles away, on another man-
You tell me how nice his **** is.
I smirk and tell you I'm glad that we're friends.


You're a special kind of torture.

I thought about
pulling my car into the garage
putting the dog outside
and breathing in the fumes
of our past
until there was nothing left
except my lungs constricting
around faulty ideals and notions
about us
and what love really means.

Is it any wonder that black cats
perch on pale shingles
or that the moon returns each
evening against a stark navy sky

What’s it like to be the center of attention?

I exist only in shadows
and bloom viciously
against the wall at parties.
A secret garden.

Poisonous frogs
stick out like candy against
forests of green.
They dare to be noticed as
unapologetic warnings.

If only I could feel the spotlight
burn a hole through my lonely chest
just once. Like rays of sun
that exist just for my well being.

How does it feel to be someplace you don’t belong?

Cancer grows
multiplies
splits apart, doubled over
a thousand times
with little regard for it’s unwelcomed
stay.
Fearless.

I spiral down vacant bottles
only to shatter through the bottom of each one
in the hunt for genuine human connection.
An insecurity that is nothing but confident in itself.
I crave to be noticed.

Is it any wonder that black cats
perch on pale shingles?

Oh wow
You're like a summer breeze
         nonexistent
hot
dry
vivid
    I can't look at you
you burn brighter
I hide inside
to stay cool
cold
buried
Arizona sunrise
Alaskan sunset
Stars dance
painfully distant
too close
  Pools form in your eyes
galaxies
  
I swim in the empty spaces

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.

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.

Every poet needs a muse.

I have never forgotten.
Have you? Even once?

As I let you slip through the cracks? I wouldn't blame you if you did.
But I know that you haven't.

It's funny. Talking about distance.
because in spite of it all,
nobody has touched me like you.

Do you still feel it sometimes? Do you still feel like visiting me in my dreams? Or when I'm on top of the mountains, sipping in the beauty of the world? The need to inspire? Inspiration itself.

I do. Constantly.
It's everything I've ever wanted. The loveliest thing I've ever known.

The way you manage to make words come alive. Like air. The way you could make them dance into my lungs and rush into my bloodstream
always leaves me craving more. Addicted.

I'm at the mercy of your language.
Your fingers.
Your smile.

Your words are eternal. Taken as scripture. I bow to them every day. Praise them. Share them. Let them complete me. Give me purpose.
Reflected in pale moonlight and written in the stars.

As I look up, into the infinity of darkness,
and see the words you left there,
I am left speechless.

I mean it too. That I fell. Hard. Impossibly.

We ended quickly. Abruptly. A car accident. An exchange of information. Words hurt, but wounds heal.

I know you've continued on. Effortlessly. Gracefully as you do.
But every single night, I still go to bed, with the desire of making love with our words. Tasting your syllables. Drinking them in. I long for a touch I haven't felt since you. In every conceivable way.

I shouldn't have left. I should have begged you to stay. I would have loved a little more time with you.

I'd wait forever for it.

Maybe you shouldn't, but muses don't work that way.
There's nothing more heartbreaking than a poet without a muse.
A sky without stars.
A page without words.

I'm selfish in wanting your presence.
Your poetry.
It's cruel of me to desire something so deeply.

But nothing could be better
than knowing that
there was a little infinity
where I captured your heart
felt your soul
connected with you
and became a muse
myself.

A dream come true.
We could have blossomed into something breathtaking.

Would it be terrible if I said I think of you always?

I won't let go.
I promise.
Please know nobody
has made me
change color
more than you.
It's cold
and I'm sleepy
please my darling,
we'll have cocoa later
just come back to bed
and dream a little more
with me.

Aching for a cigarette and meaningful human contact.

Meaningless words
float like stale smoke
in the stagnant atmosphere
of the space between us.

You're right. It wasn't yours.
They're just words
written on an idle Tuesday
and I need you
to leave me
alone.
We can never speak.
My heart belongs
entirely
to someone else.