i will die the Spring will come out my lips a flower and will gather at my throat a forest i will not speak and it will grow softly tiny and millions

It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.

I can't forget you,
I'll always weep at
the thought of you
while drunk on emotion.

I wait until I'm alone to
look at the photographs
I've managed to salvage.
I selfishly cherish the memory
of our times together.

I stand fixed in the thick green
grass and stare at your name
engraved in the marble.
I always run my fingertips
across each letter.

I include you in all that I
do,I be the Plato
to your Socrates.

I drink more now,
always the cheap stuff,
mostly alone,
and forever shadowed by
your memory.

This still  new relationship
with LOSS has already
changed me as a person.
I've accepted the fact that
you're gone, but it doesn't mean
that I'm OK with it.

I look forward to sleep,
thats when I see you.
That's when I hear you.
Can you hear me?
See me?
Feel how much I miss
You?
Probably not but that's
Ok,all you ever did was
Care for me,
Loved me.

What a selfish fool I've
been,
I am.
Even now all I really want
Is you back in order for
me to Love,
for me to care for...

Deep in the meadow
Under the willow
A bed of grass,
A soft green pillow
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes
And when they open again, the sun will rise.
Here it's safe, here it's warm.
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away
A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay
And when again it's morning, they'll wash away.
Here it's safe, here it's warm.
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.

I remember being seven and scared,
The ground trembling to the sound of
A smash and the tinkling of broken glass,
My feet bare on the old wood floors,
My heart beats fast as the house sways
My eyes peeled listening to the awful things they say,
Hate resonating in the old bones of this house
I scrabble to the safe corner of my dim room
And papers start to scatter, and my favorite pen hold my
Trembling hand,
And years pass and pages burn ,
I learn to un-hear the awful words I heard.
I buried myself in books and
Sentences, in syllables in a million beautiful words.
I lost stray poems like bits of myself,
I forgot entire chapters of repeated
Life lessons and tried to unlearn
What the hard parts of life teach us.
Escaped to the far reaches, where hopelessness was
Dreadfully close but could never quite reach us.
I would have loved to read,
All the words I spread on empty white sheets,
All the lessons I’d have left for my older me
Stacked in high mountains on those old wood floors,
I would love to explore the lost chapters of myself,
I morn there loss like my childhood identity.
Perhaps every last page
was just one step closer to serenity.