Her eyes were open wounds and as she sat there she was forced to consume,
to consume the images of her bleeding heart slowly yet furiously being ripped apart.

She couldn’t look away nor escape,
for the hands participating in this torture
were unique in their ability
to be the very ones to restore her.

He was both her ruination and her salvation, a fate that she has taken without hesitation.

She is at the point of no return and she’d willingly follow him straight to hell
even if it meant that she’d burn.

Clutching to your memory
has turned my heart into a ghost town
Vacant and empty
What a shame for a place
that used to be abundant and plenty

For the land is barren
The fruits of my labor
Withered and gone
For the streams have dried up
And my affection withdrawn

It is not your fault and actually anything but
You’re blameless for everything
Other than the crime of stealing the best pieces of my heart, leaving me with only
the most defective parts

But then comes a day  
A day I stop searching for it all
A day I stop comparing

I then make my bed
Comfortable
Wrapped in the blankets of absence, loss and…

By the miraculous work of God

I then awoke to a bed stripped bare
And he was firmly standing there
The one man daring enough to make a home in such a lifeless place has now bloomed fields of flowers in his wake.

If silence was music
She’d be the sound of a melancholic rain
pattering rhythmically on a widow pane
If silence was music
She’d be the sound of the in sync heartbeat
of two lovers embracing each other
tightly under the covers

As her lonely symphony
reverberates through me
I contemplate and reflect
in the pleasure and peacefulness
of my own company
Consumed in the comforting tune
I then come to the conclusion that
there is no feeling which I am truly immune

And what a wonderful revelation that truly is

Thank you silence, for you and I
   have become such great friends…

“Are you drunk?”
No, I just feel everything too deeply
Then sometimes not at all
And never discreetly

I am tortured
And
Confused
My own agony is my muse

I view this life through a melancholic lens
     And though the world may love to
Numb & Pretend
I’ll be
******
Before I follow such a trend

So please darling
Do not be one to misinterpret
Nor allow this to be a deterrent
            
I am not drunk
I am simply just
A Poet

Find what you love and let it **** you
I’d guess that’s the best way to go
Though we will never know
Love spares none
One would honestly have better chances
Staring into the barrel of a loaded gun

I lie awake at night
Recalling the faces of beautiful strangers
Creating scenarios and wondering
how many opportunities I’ve missed
Or
What would happen if fear was cast aside
and our hearts were free to persist

Could we have been lovers?
Or could they have been the thing
from which I never recover?

Was it a missed opportunity?
Or was I saved from
the possible and inevitable cruelties
of unknown yet enticing beauty

The pain of this loss is unrelenting
The agony is never ending

My fate forever sealed
How could I ever think I’d heal

When your laugh still echos

And your presence still feels real