Sometimes, I wonder
Is reality real?
Is reality a dream?
Perhaps, with a turn of the wheel
A fantasy it may seem

We wake up
We live
We go back to sleep
Endless and passive
If it were real
Such monotony surely will seep
Through the bars of life
And reality will drain away

Leaving nothing
But an empty dream to sway

The gorgeous girl
She smiled at her friends
Her parents never suspected
That when she was alone
In the silence of night
The blade ran over her skin
Drew blood from her body
Thousands on thousands
When one healed another formed
Long sleeves and jackets
His her pain
And no one suspected a thing

It's 3 am. Again.
I'm wide awake.
There's no reason for you to haunt me
And yet,
the permanent ache residing in my chest
is starting to feel normal.
I've begun to forget
the life I had before this.
I'm hollowed out,
my insides scraped away
by everything and nothing at all.
At night, I reminisce
half-fantasying a life we never lived.
And dully, I remember all the places our bodies met
but never touched.
My thoughts run away from me again.
I think of you. I think of me. I think of us.
No. There was never an us.
Not really.
There was always a space in between,
So we'd never had to feel.
And still, your departure has left me with a wound too deep to ever heal.

A poet is the cracked spine of your favorite novel. As you begin to peer inside, words fly out from every direction. Sentences you can't make out and phrases you can't even begin to recognize. His mind is a dusty dictionary of all sorts.

A poet resembles the tide that rises and falls just as your heartbeat does with every syllable he breathes out. Corals scrape your legs and fish nip at your feet yet you linger in the water.

A poet is a pastel picture frame. Amazing how 4 corners can freeze the sparkles in your eyes and the grin on your lips. Feelings do not last forever so we tend to keep anger, sadness, joy & love sealed in glass, sitting on our night stand.

His mind is a factory.
Gears & wheels working late night shifts, making sure all periods and commas are in place.

You see
Poets are
Tear jerkers
Risk takers
Shape shifters
and
Heart breakers

I will choose you,
No matter what's going on.
If I'm cursing the world,
Or falling in love with everyone,
You're still it.

Everything about me chooses you.
Everything I do chooses you.
I know this because even though it's obvious that my happy chooses you,
So does my sad.

Every part of me chooses you.
I know this because no matter where I am,
My eyes will always be looking for you.
My ears will always turn to your voice.

My heart is affected by everything you say to me.

I could be offered the crowd;
A flood of people choosing me.

And I will always choose you.