Good morning gorgeous!

You asked me why I broke up with her.
I've been thinking about what to say without sounding
like a disrespectful ****.
Like you I've discovered it's easier to figure it out
if you write it down.
You're seeking and respect honesty so here goes.
I could not get you out of my head yesterday
and went to bed thinking about you last night.
I watched Tyson peck at the wood branch in his cage.
He bit me like the one he's named after bit Holyfield.
He loses interest in toys I buy him in minutes.  
Reminds me of my ex she was the same way.
She never listened when I spoke and it was like I never did.
I lost patience with her due to her always being late.
Last time I took her out she was an hour late
with no good reason but couldn't decide what to wear.
She was adult but felt like I was involved with a immature kid.
Plus she's impulsive in a bad way.
She used the cards I let her use for emergencies
to gamble online, bought online and hid what she didn't need
and took her friends who were immature like her
out on the town at my expense.
Drove me nuts because she had difficulty paying attention.
Sometimes love isn't enough to over come her kind
of deafness or her thinking it fun to put aluminum
foil in microwaves.
She was the queen of drama and procrastination.
Her place was always disorderly and she swore to me
when we met she was a neat freak.
I don't mind a little daily life messes it happens.
Her chronic lateness made it a last straw.
On the night I was to introduce to my folks
she was late and they left my home without meeting her.
It's been over two years since I ended the misery
of her in my life but she's still bitter.
Unlike you she's stuck in hate mode and will
be there until someone else buys her
lies and manipulations.
Could say more but I believe you will
see the full picture.

I wrote this for you Betty Ponder.
I know you know it's about you. : )

i didn't know the true definition of writing
or that i happened to be good at it
until about 693 days ago
when my teacher asked us
to write an essay
on what we knew about best
and the only words that i could create
from my trembling fingertips
was words of torment
and aching endeavors
i didn't know that i liked poetry
until about 462 days ago
when i found an old book
lying in the corner of my friend's room
and picked it up and started reading it
                Listen to the MUSTN’TS, child,

                  Listen to the DON’TS

                  Listen to the SHOULDN’TS

                  The IMPOSSIBLES, the WON’TS

                   Listen to the NEVER HAVES

                   Then listen close to me—

                    Anything can happen, child,

                    ANYTHING can be

i didn't know that poetry was my outlet
until about 498 days ago
when you slipped in between
the spaces of my fingers like water
and no longer looked at me
like you craved my presence
and ached for my lips
i didn't know that i was in love with poetry
until it held me in its hands
and grieved along side me
when no one else would

sometimes, i stand back.
and i look at myself as a stranger might see me.
and i am forced to realize that maybe i do a little too much.

i take on the problems of everyone around me.
i face their demons as if they were my own.
i make myself responsible for all those who i love.

it's kind of funny in retrospect.
i work so hard to keep everyone alive,
yet i have so little regard for my own life.

like if i disappeared, what would it really matter?
but in truth, if i was gone,
who would take over my role in so many lives?

i cannot ignore pain as most can.
i cannot see you hurt and just walk away,
i am compassionate and i am selfless.

and i believe that it may be killing me.
because not only do i feel my own depression,
i feel the depression of fifteen of my closest friends.

i drown over and over and over again.
today i was okay, every tragedy of everyone i love at bay.
but then it struck again. at the person i value above the rest.

i feel the need to save everyone and anyone.
and i can never and will never accept that i cannot do that.
i will save them all, or die trying.

because i will face your demons,
i will take responsibility for your life,
and i will suffer right next to you.

*because i love you

i've always been oddly quite good with numbers
but i think i've gotten better since you left
it has now exactly been 489 days
since your awful, agonizing, piercing words
tumbled from out of your lips
and it's been exactly 489 days since you broke my heart
and shattered it into a million insignificant, microscopic pieces
that i'll probably never be able to piece back together.

your scent lingers, in the way that the moon never rushes to go down in the winter
in the way that it is a beautiful blend of moonlight, lavender, and whiskey
the moon is always beautiful and nobody complains of her presence
the same is said for you

your legs tangle with mine, and it's hard to write this without feeling drowsy
nostalgic for your touch, and your head in the crook of my neck
your hair is always so soft, and so are your lips and I don't know how
but I like the way they tickle my chin

I can feel your fingers, skimming through my hair, hard to the touch
but with softer intentions they do bear, I could say the same for your heart
cold on the outside, a mix of steel and ice, but on the inside is a battle
of brimstone and fire

I think I'm beginning to understand, your smile when you are asleep,
and the reason behind your favourite books and works of art
I think I'm beginning to understand, why love is a term not to be used lightly
and especially not around you

hold yourself above
the scars of my heart
displayed on my wrist
stomach and thighs
hold yourself
higher than my
low life
existence