I want my words to be beautiful.
Beautiful like yours.
I want to see ordinary things,
Find the magic in them,
And put the magic on a page, for everyone to understand.

I want to have a way with words.
I want every poem of mine
To become a masterpiece.
Just like yours.

I am not broken.

But you are.

You see the world through pain,
And pain makes the colors brighter.
It makes the value of feelings
Climb higher.

Sometimes I wonder
If I should be broken like you
If I want my words to resonate
Like yours.

Sometimes I wonder,
If it will be truly worth it
In the end.

I wonder what it will be like,
To cut myself up to pour out the beauty inside me.

Just like you.

I imagine that you
Raise the blade
Slice your feelings open
And write your masterpiece
In red.

If I could have save time in bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save everyday 'till eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true;
I'd save eveyday like treasure and then,
again,  I would spend them with you

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight,—
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,—
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.

I feel like I’ve been mugged, and your weapons, are your words. They penetrate deep into me, like a ******, with 1 foot bullets. Why **** when you have everything in snap, and when you clap, you have that, and everyone at your knees, ready to please. So I asketh of thee, what is your reasoning?Why have me travel farther up the string, when YOU know, there’s nothing at the end of it? This poem, why should I even finish it, if you already caught, the drift of it? But Ima keep the title because best friends are opportunist too, now I have no clue, when to make the next move, but I promised myself if I wait for too long I better get the practicing on the thot walk because that’s the gay move. And I ain’t no gay dude just a good guy making all the wrong moves. So trust me when I say, I need you to guide my every move, cause currently I’m taking baby steps in a marathon race heading to the moon. So if you need a friend now, I’ll be your friend down, all the way to a pen pal. But don’t forget about, the forbidden intentions, that friend, ship, more than a friendship that I am quick wit to rid of, for you Because Best Friends are Opportunist Too.

She speaks with Shakespeare’s passion
All beauty and poetry
All art and fire
Full of unrelenting desire
To inspire dormant feelings
Her words ring upwards
And echo down
The sound of fury
Of lovers hurried
Rushed upon
A fatal path
And with her last gasp
In the last act
The black asp
Or the daggers sheath
I see the love from me
Bleed
And beg her back to life
But she is dead
And I can only love her
In my memory

Cradled inside your silence
all now is golden

Sunup
across the Universe

Riding beams
created from love