This is me writing a poem -
or a prose ...
Whatever it seems to be to you-
you know I don't know meters--
I didn't attend lit class like you did.

This is my pen
making love to the paper
with words that won't do as much
if spoken--
I know you don't want to "hear" from me.

This is my paper
having enough space
to write on
probably everything
you wouldn't have time
to spend on
reading.

This is my paper
having a huge space
to write on -
probably as huge as the space
that's been emptied
since you told me
"I miss you,"
and I answered
"No, you don't."

I know I'm making you puke right now.

If I wasn't here, I'd be there
handing you a plastic bag.

If I wasn't here,
it could only mean
I was there --- because if I wasn't here,
it means
I could be with you
as long as I promised...

as long as you wanted.

And as much as you hate cliches,
this is one of them --
because I am just a guy who can't say
to your face
how sorry I am for not being good
at keeping promises.

believe me I don't care
but if I do
I just do because
I want to know
how miserable you've been
since I left
and since you
let me leave

believe me I don't care
but if I do
I just do because
I want to know
how things work out between
You and
Your life
when I'm not around

I think things got better...
but I could be wrong
because if
I am right
it's gonna **** me


believe me I don't care
but If I do
I just do because
it's better than
smoking a pack
a day

my eyes
hurt
either way

all these are cliches
like
should've,
could've,
would've,
might
have beens,
would rathers...


can't you just say 'regrets'?


because everything you chose to happen
happened for a reason
and the reason
was you chose it
and it was indeed a stupid
choice


and you'll never admit it was


because you'll never learn from
your mistakes
you'll just repeat them
until they become right


because everything changes,
everything bends,
except for you,

except for me,
who'll forever melt in your
alibis

My first passion was the arts,
My first weapon was a brush,
My first move was a stroke,

Up
down
left
right
round
and
round

My first masterpiece was an image
of a boy and
a girl,
sitting on a bench,
under a tree.

The girl was leaning on the boy's
shoulder, the boy was whispering
something in her ear.

My mother asked me, "Are they in love?"

I said

"No, they are just
Young,
Happy,
and
Innocent."

Years have gone by.
I ditched arts for writing,
I ditched brushes for pens,
I ditched strokes for words,

'I'
'love'
You'

And got my first broken heart.
All I saw was myself, in my room
sitting on the floor, leaning on my bedside,
whispering, "I shouldn't have wrote that."

My mother asked me, "Are you alright?"

I said, "No. I am in love."

I didn't know I wanted you
until I tasted you through his lips,
and saw your soul through his eyes.
I felt his chest thumped to a beat,
and every beat said your name;
I liked what I heard,
more than the chill I got
when he whisphered on my ear
words that he might have said
to you before.
I never believed what he said.
But I believe he loved you.
And I believe I love him;
every part of him that
has traces of you.

It is 'Clair de Lune'
and your fingers touching
those keys
and the way you moved each
from one note to another

The walls are painted black,
like the piano,
and that you, are within these walls
with me, playing that piece,
is more beautiful than the piece itself.

The walls resound with music
and my head echos another.
I love the music
but not as much as I love the one who plays it.

I think it's her face
that I haven't seen in a while
that makes me say
'something has changed'

Maybe her lips aren't as pink
as I last saw them,
aren't as soft
as I last kissed them

Maybe her cheeks aren't as flushed
as the way they were when
I made her laugh real hard 'cause I said I'd die for her

Maybe she doesn't laugh much anymore.
Maybe no one tells her she's beautiful anymore.

I lost count of her eye lashes
She had really thick eye lashes and everytime she opened her eyes
I'd see  how they match their dark brown color perfectly

...I hope it's just her face...

She loved me
and if she does not anymore,



She's beautiful
and she broke my heart.

I've got you and
I'm still walking in the rain alone...and sneezing.
Don't get me wrong
because I love the rain...
I just hate the cold,
and that I'm not waterproof
and that  you can't walk with me
not because you have no feet,
because you do have huge feet

but because you take tiny steps
and because you can't swim

and by the time you got here
I'm already drowning

I am not built for dancing

or

maybe

just built

to think

that I am not



I am a poet

or

maybe

just built

to think

that I am



Just like you

when you said

you don't love me

but maybe

you're

just built

to think

that

you don't


Just like me

when I said

I love you

but maybe

I'm

just built

to think

that I do

"This time, it really is goodbye."*

-is an understatement
-is said too much
-is walking out the door
                                       -and taking the extra key

I am not drunk

and

I am still good at keeping

secrets

and

I am still not telling

the last one

I kept


There are no butterflies in my stomach
and
there are too many bottles of beer in my head
and
you're not in my heart


So don't tell me to let it out

when I know what's gonna hurt you more

and that is

telling you

Twice

Taste,
Bite,
Swallow
(and repeat)


Your words
against my
already
bland
conscience

-

one more loss
and it is
tasteless


How do you
plead me
without
saying
"please"?

How come you
please me
with
all these
tease?


I know
I was right
when I shook my head

but
then
knocked it
and tread
the deep
when the light
turned red

or

was it green?

or

was I wrong?

or

does it matter anymore?


'cause I'm no dish
and
You're no ocean


just a girl
just a guy

and the pressure of being
under 20

as an excuse

Passion
was merely a word
until
that taste
in your mouth

and

Pain
was merely a thought
until
that ache
in your heart


and

Love
was a good feeling

until
the word
goodbye

until
the thought
of leaving

and
the
unthinking
of what you've
left behind

Let us dance
to the beat
of his guitar

Let us heed
the sound
of the drum
he strums

and the bass-his voice
and the treble-his tears
and the troubled-himself

as he leaves the room
of better acoustics

for a hall
that echos nothing
but the dream
he has forgotten

you are pressed
again
on your favorite
surface

she's got
your sweat
on her skin

and your
promises
on her tongue

It's not you-
it's her
I wanna kiss
and bite
till
she bleeds

your
words
that won't
deliver

and

your
scent
that
stings
and
lingers...


they were
once mine

but there's no way
I can deny-

they taste
better
on
her

Oh, he's
just
a boy

so
take away
the innocence
and have
him
look at
what you see

so
tell him
now
everything
he'll learn
in time
and have
him
grow beyond
his years

so put him
in a mold
he's too small
to fit
or simply put,
just take away the
child in him

now you
got a Man
who knows
right
from wrong,
who knows
that
the
wages of sin
is death

but chooses
to sin
anyway

this is the song
she doesn't sing
for it says
she's better off alone
he's better off without anyone
and
anyone's better off without him


this is the song
she doesn't sing
for it says
she's never been sure
about anything
or
anyone
until he came
and
since then
she's been lying


this is the song
she doesn't sing
for it says
empty
affinity
disguised
skillfully
under the
sheets
they've been

as what
he thinks
is love

as what
she thinks

is a mistake


but more than that,

this is the song
he'll never
want to hear


but foremost,

this is the song
she writes

the string
of thoughtless
choices
ends
here
where
sparks
never fly
but simply
ignite

Flames...
Games...

the string
of thoughtless
choices
starts
here
where
hearts
never
mind
but
simply
beat

I love you to death.


This ain't a promise
but it's
still
well
worth
breaking

My
guilt-
stricken
sighs
made
the
air
real
dry

I
told
you
not
to
breathe in
for
these
next
few
lies
are
the
ones
you
should
believe in

Where
I went,
we've
never
been

Doesn't
matter
what
but
who
I
did

I
guess
I am
not
worth
the drama
anymore

It's
been
pretend
worth
an Oscar
after
all
Now
let
me
go
get
my role

The things
you're afraid to know
are
the things
you fear
you already know

But then again

you could be wrong

I could be misleading

and both of us could be in

for a surprise

My mind is nothing but cluttered
and thoughts can't be clearly uttered

I will try to write these lines
as good as
one at a time
'cause I want you to understand
what I can't

These are "truths"
but these are "wrongs"
I've been trying to bend
and I've known all along
they tolerate no force,
they tolerate no intervention

I'm the best at holding on
I'm the best at letting loose-
this time I don't know
which one
to choose...

...But take my hand, anyway
'cause it makes me a little less confused

I am now verging on clear and obscure;
These troubles have your name on them...

If I am sick,
I really suspect I am,
then you are my disease-
I'll do nothing,
I'll let you linger,
my prognosis will be poor
and hell yes!
You'll stay forever...
Or if not, at least until
the day I die
which
I hope
won't come too soon

I know you can't see
the road
I've been walking on
nor the signs
that
I've been ignoring
just to get a glimpse
of your world
and what's in it for me

If doing this makes you
look like a kid in a candy store,
then I'll paint all these lights green,
cross the wrong street,
get a clearer view-
a clearer picture of you,
and convince myself
that I did not *****
the Stop sign for nothing


and now we get to the bottom line:








I am a minor. A little less wine on my sangria..

my nightly escape...
I'll lie down, shut my eyes
and my world is my own again,
and you're all over it again...
I'll dream of you again
and wish for eternal sleep
where lies my perpetual bliss
where lies my favorite kind of high
where lies my 'would rathers'
which are my 'will nevers'
as soon as I hear the alarm

I'll see you tomorrow.

There are only 2 things I am

looking forward to

-sleeping

and

-not waking up.

Good night, endless good night.

Dusk be the last thing I lay my eyes on.

My thoughts have been making me struggle...
I don't know what I want.
But I know what I shouldn't say...
I shouldn't say anything I can't live up to...
I shouldn't say anything about how I feel
because how I feel changes everyday...
my truth changes everyday...
which one prevails? yesterday's?
today's? the following day's?
I don't know.

I want to get out..

Forget about the truth - the truth is crazy.
What's right is what matters.
The right thing to do is to pretend
you haven't done anything to me.
..pretend that you don't matter..
I wish my brain would skip
every little thing that comes down to you
whenever it thinks.....

You may be my impossible dream...
But you' re not my unthinkable thought...
though you should be..
as much as I need you to be...
I can still picture you with me..
It's not an unimaginable scene...

You should be history to me.
Today is a new day...
But there's nothing new...
I wake up and you're here again...
I'm stuck again,
with your more than perfect image...
like you're right before my eyes..
It's obvious enough that these four walls
didn't crush my head...

They didn't..

But I'm thinking of you..I'm seeing you...

I'm not totally fine, after all.

Fact is I'm not fine, after all.


But I have to be.
But I don't know when.

You're a one tough case to crack.
But with those eyes you can get away with almost anything;
you can get away with taking what's mine -
I won't even call it stealing.
You can get away with being in my head all the time-
you've taken my heart so why not dominate what's left?
You can get away with being an enigma .
You can get away with being a conundrum…
Not a known word deserves you,
compares to you, and is in your league…
I'll never know what 'you' really mean...
And I couldn't care less…
'cause you already mean to me.