An axe was put to a tree;
a sharpened tool cut,
causing pain.
Causing pain.

Blow by blow, that tree shuddered;
what once was solid and strong
became fragile.
The tree no longer had confidence
in being able to stand
straight and tall.
Too much damage
had been done.

I wish my hand
had never gripped
that axe of destruction.
I long for the tree
to be whole again.
I weep for what I have wrought;
my tears are not enough
to replenish the strength
of that beautiful tree
I caused to suffer.

when people are in love
they often say
they simply fell
tripped over their own two feet
face forward
and into the arms of their beloved

i did more than simply fall
onto the ground of your love

you, for me
were an ocean
and i dived
headfirst
roughly
harshly
almost painfully
into the waters of “you”

i knew i could not swim
but i did so anyway
i was drowning
entangled in you
surrounded by this being of “you”
engulfed in this feeling of “you”

and i did not know what came over me
but i let myself drown
i did not try to swim back up
because if i went back to land,
releasing myself from your grasp
that would mean losing the feeling of “you”

and after
submerging into the depth
the love
the passion
of “you”

how could i ever leave?

If you ask me,
"How are you?"
I'll answer, "I'm Okay"

But please set me free
If I were to be true,
Slowly I decay

So reach out that hand, I guess
But know that I'm a mess
I barely do my best,
But perhaps in you I'll find some rest

So ask me once more
"How are you?"
I'll still answer, "I'm Okay"

So hug me tight as if at world's end
And tell me, "It's fine... I know you're not, your heart has a huge dent."
If that happens, please forgive me if I cry

Because up until now, I lived telling myself everyday
"Things are gonna be okay,
I am Okay"

And that is my little stage play
In reality, I no longer see the light of today
and I hope meeting you
will help me become true
True to say one day that I am
"Finally, really... okay..."

"She was an
unusual dresser.
Every night,
she wore bruises
on her heart,
love on her lips,
pain in her eyes,
and ink on her fingers.
They called her poetry."

you will never be forgotten.
ever.
your name twisted into metaphors and colors and distractions will forever
be painted across pages and pages of her favorite brand of notebook,
no matter how many she burns
there will always be one she forgot,
and she will only find it once she had almost forgotten you.
she will find the one Papyrus notebook
and all of your metaphors and colors and disractions will come flooding back,
just like how the ocean in your eyes
flooded her heart all those years ago.

Pain, so demanding.
Always needing to be felt.

Why?
Why can't I just be alone,
without the pain,
without the agony.

You can pull out that razor,
slice all you want.
You're still gonna feel the pain.
You're still gonna feel the hurt.

I'm stronger than that pain.
Better than that pain.

But that is a lie.
Because pain, pain will always be felt.

Saying goodbye
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.

As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
And perfect
The plot always was.  

You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.

Finally understanding
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.

Although the last sentence  
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.

Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.

You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book  
Was your favorite story
All along.