'Young lady, why is your poetry so dark?'
I don't know good sir, it's probably because I have my insides at war.

I’d like to say that I have moved on
and maybe I have
but forgetting you looks a lot like
the time you sent me home before running to catch the last bus;
I just kept looking back at you,
and right now,
I still am.

i am a small and insignificant person i listen to the negative
"cannot do"unless I become aware of my true abilities
I become empowered and not listen to the i people
you and I can change  The you i person has the great ability
to change into the you I person also We can be great partners
being you I and me I otherwise there remains total confusion
such as:
you i and  me I
or
you I and me i
or
You i and me i
And if we do this right we get..............:) instead of...................:(
I or i
thank you I or you i ,which one do you choose?

I don't understand you and how you've managed to scoop up every last bit of my being and sign it with your name in permanent ink, it's like I'm your property, like I'm something you bought years ago and used to love but now you just leave me to rest on a your shelf of forgotten toys and treasures. I still love you and I shouldn't but I do because at the end of the day you're the only one I think I ever did love. I loathe you for making me love you because it isn't fair for you to make me feel like I'm all you've ever dreamed about and then as dawn fades to dust I'm a huge mound of nothingness to you. I wish I could stop feeling this way but I still want to be yours like I was back then

So there's this ghost I know. It's of the you that's gone. He sneaks into my bed at night and slips beneath the covers and holds my hand with his icy, not-quite-real hand and I can almost feel him next to me. It's like he's almost real, strumming his guitar and brushing my hair back, and in the pitch black of night, he could be a physical being. Except he isn't, I'm not sure if he's a ghost or a manifestation my mind made up because I can't accept the person I loved so wildly has become someone I don't understand, someone whom I can't even hold a conversation with anymore. I don't mind that he exists in my bed in the dark now, except in my half-awake half-dream state, I can almost smell him, almost feel him.

But he's not truly there. I am alone with something my mind made up, or maybe I share my bed with a ghost, a part of a person's soul who loved me so deeply it split from the rest of him so he could be by my side forever. I don't know. I don't care.