That dark boy in the back of the class
Always drawing his feelings away
But over time his sharp pencil dulled,
He didn't feel the strength to draw anymore
So his drawings got sadder, darker
He felt the pencil was worthless eventually,
And threw his pencil away.
Though this story may be true,
**What if I told you, the pencil was himself too?

You shine,
brighter than the constellations.
The curve of your lips,
welcomes me home.

I hope I do not live to see the day
When I could be genuinely
Intensely happy
(Without your approval,
Without your hands ticking my clock,
Without you)
And bump into your sad, empty eyes
Hands waiting for the warmth
Talk to you again
Like we used to

You know I'll be back
Running, breathless
With all your memories in my hand

Late at night I think about this
But then,
I don't want you back
Do not come back.

Why are my eyes empty
No hidden messages, no blinks made for tears
Why is my right hand empty
Where is my pen, where is the drive to write - the only thing right, all gone
Why is my left hand empty
Where is the hand that used to hold me still and tight - reassurance
Why is my throat empty
No words to even describe the littlest detail of this hollow feeling
I may be bad with words but this time it's worse
Why is my chest empty
No trace of heavy breathing, no extra push, no nothing
I hear the echoes of the things I used to say, they're all just echoes now
Where is the heart that used to pump for something
I am left with a piece of it - broken, jagged, ugly, with no use

Why did I let myself be emptied of all the things that kept me alive before?
What has happened to the girl that made everyone feel better?
What has become of the only person who understood - myself?
Where did I start misplacing my soul?
Even my passion is dying, I'm struggling to let it live, thin thread, thin thread
What has happened to hoping for and always choosing to see the better?
Why do I feel so empty?

Don't ever try to get close
You'll be with a person with a broken heart of a 12-year-old girl

I see you have someone else now
Does this one make you want to continue to live?
Is this one brave enough to embrace your storms and  waves?
Is comfort found in their arms, their calm
and home in their clouded thunders?
Is this someone worth the dive?
Can they escape your love?
If they can, don't let them read this.
Don't tell them know our secrets.

Eager as they are,
let them walk alone with your angry jagged pieces
Make them want to go back in time
just to experience you over and over
This one maybe better than the last
Have you told yet?

Have you told why you fall so easily
Why at the breath of your favourite words you cave in
Why being told beautiful you easily feel like a treasure
Once hidden, now unlost
Taken cared of and practically important
Why you’ve always mistaken good words with promises
And staying for one night meant forever
And crying meant dying inside
And that falling apart is part of life
Inevitable and just meant for you
(6 times in a row, wow)
Why you’ve always thought of the clichés as pieces of precious art
Only meant for you, to feel, to realize, and to kiss goodbye
Why you’ve always settled with the good enough
Thinking you’re not capable of having more
Not worthy, to be precise

**You're just standing there, staring at me with your dead eyes. You haven't, have you?

Poets do not work everyday
They write continually
But
To a poet
Antagonizing over paper
And word is life
And the words never cease!
Poets take obscurity
And slam it into reality
Like a ****
Simply
Growing out of the sidewalk
Is not just a ****
But a metaphor
It is almost maddening!
A love hate relationship
As cliche as they come
But poets carry on
And find hilarity in madness
And truth
When there is not much else