And so I write of love
Thinking it’s the sane thing to do,
     Of over-thinking
Which overpowers the other,
Your love (your past love)
     Or mine.

Everyday seemed like a day after the other,
Only, that they move backwards,
Only, that they grow much painful
As days go by, as nights
     Are even worse.

Nothing hurts
Like a definite goodbye,
Unless it was an indefinite one.
I know for sure
     That I could have you back.

I love you so much that I miss you
And how I struggle
To make you understand
That I only miss you
     Because I love you.

And so my pen tilts from here,
Not knowing what to say,
     Only knowing what to feel.

     And we’re apart...

          We’re once were.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

In the end,
and by the end I mean
the day you realize
the moon was never waiting on the sun,
that she was always there,
only then will you know why wildflowers feel the pain you've been carrying silently.

The gentle courage that's found in the solemn nights,
where the wind whispers
"there has to be another way",
always seems to turn the tide faster than any man could

and once the roots of the trees find their way to your knees,
then you'll understand why you went down with his ship.

A million miles over
Cities toppled over like broken glass,
Raging waters with pointed teeth,
Familiar hands lost to the journey,
And hardships nobody on this
Seemingly godforsaken planet
Deserves to endure,
And at the very end of the very last mile,
What right do you have to say,
"You are not welcome here"?
Have you seen the fire that burns
In the orphaned children?
Have you seen the blood of your loved ones
Spilled across your feet?
Have you faced death in the eyes and
Felt his presence in your shadows?
Or have you instead,
Thought the valiantly wandering refugees as
A threat to your quiet life?
I ******* dare you
To look their people in the eyes and tell them
They could be suspected of being terrorists.
I suspect them of being nothing but humans,
Because assuming the worst from not one, but
An entire population--
What kind of logic is that? And
What kind of heart do you have that cannot see
People in need? People that need a place,
If even temporarily, to call home?
Rather,
What kind of heart is it that you lack,
That cannot find the good in people to
Cherish as if you knew their name? And
What kind of heart is it that you lack,
That cannot open your own eyes to the dystopia that is our world
And try to help at least
One
Wandering soul

because life is just a serious pain in the ***.
i drink up sarcasm as if it were medicine
medicine for every pain that i have ever been caused
by every incoherent fraction of a human
a fractured mirror image of every broken promise
seriously kiss my ***

When will the day come
That I can call you
A distant memory

Besides,
It's the nickname you've given me
While forgetting all the other names
That you'd whisper to me

As we were holding hands
And laughing at the clouds above us,
Drifting away as if they hadn't heard

Now I wish those clouds would've stopped moving
So we could've spent our little eternity together
And if not that much, I wish
You could push my hair behind my ear in the wind
And if not that much, I wish
That you could have at least wiped my tears away

Before you drifted away, too