Whether I try to or not,
I'll keep
P
   O
      U  
        R
          I
          N
         G
Out my heart to her -
Because she keeps

Puncturing it! >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

With her honey-sweet words.

A blank dictionary
I am exhausted of words.
Left with pages bare,
unable to articulate.
But to say it simply,
I miss you.

Cut and bruised,
from the shrapnel I left behind.
Solitary confinement,
alone in a bleak silence.
Trying to break a titanium safe,
wondering of secrets that lay.
Shunned away,
left to rot in my own madness.

Nauseously numb,
in an energetic emptiness.
Broken and unbroken
imperfect in balance.
Sailing in the seas of love
as a relentless storms rages.
Devils dance on deck,
While angels play the harp.
Ancient anchors too rusty,
We sink to the deep blue depths.
Drowning in our own demise,
trying desperately to stay afloat.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.