Resting, resting in puddle
The grains relaxed
splayed across one another
The sand is peaceful
It is undesturbed
The worlds chaos passing it by
Watching the world as through a glass
its where it belongs
No pretenses - no emotion
Just stillness as the sand melts content in a puddle
as not a participant but an observer
Life passes by

Don't remember how much I hoarded
Remember how much I distributed among the poor

started off with a pen and a pad
thought it would just be a fad
scribbling down my thoughts
writing is where i get lost

started off with some ideas
thought they would eventually end
scribbling down my feelings
writing became my new trend

started off a beginner
thought i would be a quitter
scribbling my thoughts of depression
writing soon became my obsession

sometimes i miss you,
but then i realize that i was just an awful person to be friends with,
as were you.
i never kept stories straight,
afraid to tell the truth about my family after i opened up to you and you judged me,
so then i tried to keep quiet.
but it just resulted in things i could never explain well enough for you to understand.
i don't miss the person you are.
you are damaged,
and toxic,
and lost,
but i am too,
and maybe two toxics cant be mixed.
i don't miss the person you are,
i miss the memories,
and being able to call you a best friend,
but i don't miss you.
the more days past,
the more i wish it wasn't you who i shared all the memories with.

all that ******* fire;
whittles down to a muscle memory.

It's winter again.
That time of year
when I fall victim
to my hopeless
melancholy.
What eases the pain?
Pouring my soul
onto paper at 3am,
while you softly
sleep next to me,
completely oblivious
to the catastrophe
laying beside you
and of course,
alcohol.

Even though we're far apart,
you're the one that holds the key to my heart.