A fragile hope we may really speak
has just been shattered into pieces
A fragile hope you will stop my bleed
is still alive and somehow increases

God, how did I fell and why so hard?
Why your voice is now my favorite song
Why when you're near I act like a ******
Why all I want is to accompany along

I know what you think and how you feel
So why the fragile false hope still exists
I know that "us" remains a dream unreal
But the hope still fills my head with mist

And nobody knows how much it hurts
To watch never happening wonderful plots
And it tortures you slowly or even worse
It dig holes in you like the one from shots

So my only salvation is getting it killed
I'm so tired of it so help me to stop it
Destroy the illusory castles I have build
because I'm unable to destroy it

It's hard to write a poem
When there's nothing going on
It's hard to think of what to say
When you've given most of it away

As poets we never scratch the surface
We delve within, disclose our deepest sin
We crave our pain, declare it's for our art
Yet more often than not have no idea where to start

But start we do and start we must
A deep desire in all of us
To spill out on the written page
What little bit we have tried to save

Ink now is the poets blood
Fragments of self pour from within
Silence is our safety net
To stop us from bleeding out

Although it's hard to write a poem
With nothing going on
We still find words to form a verse
From deep within our marrow bone

You are the sweetest of my torments.
You're the tangible torture of citrus
The bite followed by the ****
Fresh and unbearable in the same instance

You're the lemon zest scent;
You're the juice in the cut
As the knife cuts my thumb;
The sweetness meeting the wild coppery tang
of blood in my mouth.

You're in the twist in my chest
that exists somewhere between my heart and my stomach
both organs being wrenched apart...
When I see you and remember that we haven't spoken in months.

I know that I am not one of the pages of your book
or the words in your poem
but I will tirelessly watch over you from every nook.
I know I am not the portrait you are painting
or the inspiration behind your masterpieces
but in my heart, it is your name I am engraving.
I know I am not the reason for your smiles
or the tickles of your laughter
but for you, I would walk a thousand miles.
I know I am not your shining star
or the light in your life
but till forever is through, I'll admire you from afar.
I know I am not the one your heart beats for
or the one you desire
but my heart says as long as it brings you happiness,
it wants nothing more.
I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

You're that awkward “hi” exchanged by strangers who
thought they both knew each other but were clearly mistaken for another.
You're the bruise that turns blue when I accidentally bump my leg
on the corner of the bed. You're the scar that I never knew I had.
You're the bittersweet taste in my mouth every morning.
You're the last thought lingering in my head before slumber takes me
and you're the vagueness that haunts me in my dreams.
You're the scalding hot shower in a cold freezing morning.
You're the boiling tea that numbs my tongue for the rest of the day.
You're the obsession I will never learn to let go of.
You're that person I will never get to call mine.
You're the one that got away.

I have lost all. What you ask ?
I don't know
maybe it is my personality
or my lack of one. Maybe it's my lack of originality
Or I'm just alone
All I know is I have lost
Lost a great many things my smile is gone
I look like a hopeless being
My will is no longer strong
I see shadows following me
Depression is my daily bread I’m mot lying believe me
Sometimes I wonder why am not dead.

Have you ever asked yourself like why you so lonely?   Or empty?
that maybe you give too much of your essence to people and never leave any of you for yourself
I know I do and like that's maybe why I get so attached to books
because in them, I find myself  I need to change, because things shouldn't be this way
but it's hard sometimes you know, when most days you don't leave the house because you feel unworthy of the space you take up
so you'd much rather disintegrate into soil because you've become all too familiar with people stepping over you and admiring the outcome of your beauty but never the roots of your pain
I spend so much effort watering people in order for them to grow and hardly get enough sun shine to feed my own soul   because I don't know how to do anything else but care for everyone but myself