It's 2:04 and I woke up thinking about you
and how it would feel to wake up in your arms.
Don't know why this happens again and again...
My body just won't sleep through a thought of you.
The last thing I need, though, is to wake up at 2:04
and be reminded that you are so far away.
The emptiness of my arms cruelly points that out.
Then the emptiness laughs, the loneliness giggles,
and my misery is delighted by its new source.

That's enough!
You know it's all in your head.
There's nothing for you to worry about.
It's not his fault.
He wouldn't do it on purpose.
What are you scared of?
You trust him;
he's perfect.
It's all in your head.
Don't let these thoughts start.
He wouldn't... he couldn't.
It's all IN YOUR HEAD!
Should I tell him? NO!
...Yes?
What are you thinking?
You're just lonely. You're scared.
STOP IT.
He loves you.
You know he does.
He said 'forever'...
I don't think forever is over yet.

I'm no artist.
I can't show you the things I've seen,
nor the things I have imagined.
But let me tell you:
There is a moon that sheds light
in a color you can taste.
There is a forest so wild
that every footstep echoes.
There are frozen lakes
and bottomless oceans
and flower fields
and endless, endless skies.
No, I cannot show you
where all the beauty lies.
I'm asking you to see the world
without opening your eyes.

It was beautiful, did you see it?
No? Did you notice it at all?
The sky glowed pink and yellow and purple and spectacular.
Were you awake?
Oh, the clouds were lit from below like tented blankets lit by flashlight…
How did you sleep through the loud, thundering colors?
The wind picked up, and blew the light at all different angles.
Did you hear the morning? Were the songbirds bobbing outside the window?
Maybe.
But you were watching the lines on the road as you drove to work.

Sometimes I like to sit in the woods and let the bugs crawl across my jeans.
Sometimes I sneak out of my own house when everyone is asleep.
Sometimes I imagine scary things in the dark on purpose.
Sometimes I forget what I look like.  
Once, I tried to go a day without speaking to see if I could.
Once, I wrote a suicide note just to see what I would say.
Once, I wrote a love note and buried it so nobody would ever find it.
Once, I walked by a graveyard and read the stones that didn't stand straight.
Afterwards, I forgot who I was.

I'm tired of hearing my own thoughts
Tired of listening to anyone's voice but yours
Tired of thinking of anything else
Tired of myself.

We all have our favorites.
They're a quick answer when we need a smile
or a deep breath.
A backup for our imaginations when life is too hard.
I can retreat into images
Of sunlight filtering through maple leaves
-my favorite shade of my favorite color-
or the rush of a heavy rain
-my favorite sound-
or a lawn covered in autumn leaves
-my favorite smell-
and suddenly the thoughts my mind kicked up
have settled like the autumn leaves
when the October breeze dies down.

Every time we say goodbye,
I leave my soul with you for safekeeping.
I trust you.
It used to hurt; the hollowness.
That is, until the day
you gave your soul to me
for comfort while you're away.

Here I am with pen in hand,
And there you are without a clue.
And I can’t believe I’m lame enough
To write poetry about you.

I have so many thoughts you’ll never know;
There are so many places we’ll never go…
But I can’t get you off my mind,
So please, please don’t say ‘no’…

If someone shows you their soul,
Show yours in return
Because this is how lovers meet:
An act of bravery and an act of sympathy.

I don't know when you became so important.
I just woke up one morning and knew:
There'd never be another day
I didn't think of you.

I sit here screaming tears
for missing you...
barely breathing
for want of you.
There is nothing for me here,
only
loneliness.
And the saddest part is that
I'm used to it.
Used to the feeling of my soul
being swallowed
by the unrelenting intensity
of your absence.
I'm used to it.

Sometimes I miss you so much
I give up and go to sleep;
Hoping to meet you in my dreams.

I hate those times in life
when everything is a challenge.
Sometimes it's nice to relax
and be content with where you are.
But not today.
And not tomorrow.
I know that the hard times will pass,
but I also know that I'll regret
the opportunities missed
just because I lacked the cash.

BEEP BEEP
The alarm goes off
and I lazily roll over and hit the snooze,
not wanting to let the darkness go.
Snooze again. And again.
Now I'm running late;
I rush through breakfast
and brushing my teeth.
Button my top wrong,
button it again.
I hate the day more with each minute that passes...
resenting it just for existing.
Finishing my careless makeup,
I meet my own eyes in the mirror.
For a moment, I pretend they're yours.
I look into them lovingly and
search for a smile.
I eventually snap out of it.
I meet my eyes again and promise,
"I am not going to cry today".
I always do, and
I'm always wrong.

I'm so beautiful when reflected in your eyes.

I'm sorry for having feelings first
I'm sorry for the white lies.
I'm sorry you fell in love with me
only after we said goodbye.
And I'm sorry for encouraging it
when I said "I love you too".
I'm sorry for all the missing
that you and I will do.
I'm sorry for the distance;
I'm sorry for the time.
But I couldn't help myself...
I wanted you to be mine.
It was hard enough to leave you,
Harder still to tell you why.
Just know that you're worth more to me
Than anything money can buy.
I'm sorry I can't be with you.
I'm sorry I can't be there.
But one thing I'll never be sorry for
is the love you let me share.

People say to live each day like it's your last...
Don't you believe a word of that.
It's not right to feel be obliged to smile;
Not right to hear the goodbye behind every hello.
Unpack your bags; stay a while.
You don't always have to be ready to go.

Did you hear the catch in my throat when I said goodbye?
That's what I wanted to ask you, but you had gone to bed.
Not wanting to forget my question, I wrote it on a post-it note.
Must have fallen down in the night, because I found it
weeks later, when I dropped my pen behind the desk.
And there was this note asking if I heard the catch
in someone's throat when we said goodbye.
It took me a while to remember what it really was...
So there I was alone in my cavernously empty room
suddenly struck with the vivid image of that goodbye.
That goodbye.
There are no words for it. I just tried; and scribbled it all out.
Loneliness, by nature, is difficult to share.
I thought words might help.
No words.

Sometimes, thinking of you just makes me want
to fall down on my knees and pray to someone.
I don't have someone to pray to;
does it count if I pray to you?

I just grew up. Just now.
It’s terrible; it’s everything all the children say it is.
It’s lonely, it’s boring, it’s cyclical, it’s repetitive.
And the worst part is that I was powerless to stop it.
I dug in my heels
And was dragged by my hair,
And still was pulled towards it despite my struggles.
It hurts when it happens, too.
I look back and realize that everything I was is gone
And everything I am is who I said I’d never be
Someone; help; please…
Prove to me that the world is still a beautiful place.

Do you ever feel happiness so deep that you just know:
THIS is what the all religions of the world are trying to tell us about.
They're saying that there's something else here;
Something we could never put into words...
Something that can only be communicated
when you have felt it before.
It feels impossible. It feels like you've heard too many love songs
and now you're just plagiarizing their emotions.
But it's real. It's exactly what they always said it was.
You'll feel corny and fake, but that's just what it is.
Throw your judgments to the wind
along with the judgments of everyone else.
This is what religion is telling us to do:
Love freely.

Silent screams, sleepless nights...
.... take both of those literally.
I scream but there is no sound- thank god
or all the neighbors would know
that living without you is my own
personal hell.
Yeah, it sounds like a bad RomCom,
but it's real... it's all real.
I scream... I SCREAM
because I can't take it anymore
And the fact that I'm drunk
plays no role...
except that I have the dumb courage
to write this down.

Tell me a story.
I want to know something incredible about you
and something boring about you, too.
Tell me about the time you broke your arm
impersonating a superhero.
Can I hear about the first time you fell in love?
Does that story have a happy ending?
You could tell me what you thought about
as you fell asleep last night.
I'll listen to what you thought
As you lay awake the night before.
Hell, I'd listen to you tell me
How you tie your shoes.
I don't care what we're talking about.
I just want to hear your voice.

Love isn't just learned.
It has to be taught.
And if you find the right teacher,
they will show you the answers.

With every tear I shed
I become wiser.
With each gasp of pain
I understand the world better.
Every heartbreak reminds me
what it is to be alive.
When it seems like everything
is working against me,
that's when I know
I'm going the right way.

The strange thing about a love poem
is that it's not about the loved,
but about the lover.
It's not meant to inspire anything
(though it may)
but is simply a therapy
for the soul of the writer
who has such a deep connection with someone else
that they can't bear not to record
its wonder.

They think I am naive.
They think this is just 'young love',
but I know this love is not for children.
This is the kind of love that, if threatened,
could bring on Shakespearean vengeance.
This is the kind that drives men and women mad.
The kind of love that, if lost,
is deadly.
Yes, we are young. But we did not choose this.
We were drawn in against our will,
forced to protect this flame
that both warms our once cold hearts
and threatens to burn us alive.