If love was something edible
     What kind of taste would have?
Would it taste sweet, or sour?
  Bitter, or salty?
Would it be an ingredient, or the main dish
Would it be healthy, or unhealthy?
  How much would it cost?
  
If love was something audible
    What kind of sound would it have?
  Would it sound loud, or soft?
  nasal, or boxy?
  Would it be a song, or an album?
A speech, or a dialogue?
  Where would be the most likely place to hear it?

If love was something tangible**
What kind of mass would it be?
Would it feel wet, or dry?
Airy, or moist?
Would it be heavy, or light?
Painful, or pleasurable?
How useful would it be?

If love was something visible
  What color, or shape would it have?
Would it look like a rose, or a war ship?
A diamond, or a *******?
  Would it resemble the day, or the night?
A bunch of stars, or a few roaches?
If it was a person would you trust it?

If love had a smell
It would probably smell fishy.

Me?
I reached for a star
and came back with the moon.

Please  
I'll put my mask on of "happiness."
When you see me put this mask on,
Pull it off and ask me what's wrong.

If I lie to you,
Which I probably will,
Slap me.

When I slap you back,
Pull my hand back,
And wrestle me to the ground,
Force the truth out of me,
Then console me with hugs and kisses
As the tears begin to fall.

People may tell you to not cry...
I won't because I know the difference.
They think they know when in fact they lie...
I say bury yourself in the deepest of detriments.

They may say that a new day will come...
They only spout what they can't comprehend.
They forget that you are ailing from a broken heart and that you're not dumb.
There's only you in your space, alone you stand...

Textbook responses are all they can offer...
They know not that it'll only make things worse...
There can be no replies so nice and proper.
To rid you of your life, your plight, your curse.

They may even share personal events that they think familiar.
Thinking what worked for them may work for you.
But no two situations are the same, albeit looking quite similar.
At the end of the day, you only owe it to yourself to pull yourself through.

I say feed your pain, grieve hard if you must
Wallow... Dwell... Drown yourself everyday.
Let your blood sear your insides, beneath your crumbling crust.
Let the world around you descend into destruction and decay.

What made me the expert...
To say these horrid, putrid things.
Because I am you and we both lay in the dirt.
Driven mad by the persistent echoes of our own misgivings.

I'm no expert... I am just a broken man.
Telling you to let yourself be caught in your own sad and angry song.
Be weak... Be as weak as you possibly can...
So you could rise from the ashes and emerge hale and strong.

She…

Is...


Constantly searching for answers. Constantly questioning surroundings…..places…things.

Always curious.

Always distracted.

Mind bobbling and rattling with ideas. Ideas that come and go. But ones that never really stick.

She desires attention.

She’s not sure what kind. Just any kind.

She reaches out to people for validation of herself without knowing. For comfort.

Beautiful.

Wandering, sparkling brown eyes. Full lips. Bright smile. Lights up her face.

Upbeat.

In small ways and big ways.

Talented.

That’s scattered in different things. Poetic in certain emotions that are expressed.

Anxious.

For everything. Anything.

Aching for change. But changing nothing.

Excitement.

She shows. She likes.

Naive.

Her eyes light up to new things. Growing more curious. Unaware of consequences.

Unknown.
To others. Herself.

Stuck.

In her mind. In her expectations. In her demons. In her betrayal. In her regret.

She.

Is……

Yearning.

For self assurance. Accomplishments.

Guidance.

I…
Want to…


Show her realization. Reality. Art.

Beauty.

In herself. In her talent. In her aspirations.

Patience.

In her skills. In her growth. With her mind. With her future.

Peace.

Within herself. With her past. With her doubts.

Show her that….


She…
Is….

A Diamond in the Rough.

That she has to fall down. To get back up.

To brush herself off. To want to keep going.

On one path at a time…with one foot at a time.

To stop running.

In her mind. With her thoughts. With her feelings. With her analysis of herself.


That it is ok…

to move slow. To take her time. To perfect her craft. With one desire at a time.

She…

Is…

A work of Art that requires time.


She….

is….

Beautiful.