some days,
i let myself
love you a
little too
much

What does it mean
To mean?
What does it matter
To matter?
How does it feel
To feel?
All I know is that,
It Feels like it Means something,
to Matter.

I told myself when I write
everything I do will somehow be unique
but I've started 20 poems off this way
and ended them 20 different ways.
I would throw my sanity out the window
for just some peace of mind
and a mind you wouldn't mind
reading on top of mountains
and in front of millions.
But my sanity is what is needed most-
so take my hands and tie them to a typewriter
because this is my sanity
and a piece of my mind.

I have a way with words
and I have grown accustomed
to clinging onto metaphors
and reading way too into your lips
because they tell me things
your mouth does not have the guts to confess.
In my world, words are a blessing and a curse
and I've spent so long biting my tongue
that i'm not sure I even have one left.
So I apologize if my words are like swords
and pierce your heart like a fatal blow to the chest
But I am trying my best.

Years have been spent
hiding how I feel
So I promised myself
I wouldn't hide in dark corners
or cover my mouth with regret
I would speak with my truth
in a tone that only genuine ears
could comprehend.
So I let the words pour out my lips
unaltered and honest.
and I'm not sure if that is satisfying,
or my biggest regret.

"I wish you well."
                                                          ­                    



                                         ­                                     (but not too well without me)

Write me the words
The words of your soul
Show me your heart
Blistered and broken
Sing me the melody
Of your deep and tragic past
Read to me
The emotions that are too hard to express
Try to make me understand
The things you've gone through,
Witnessed,
Relived a hundred thousand times
Then I will know
The depths of your being
And put the pieces back in place
So you can finally be whole again.

A sad truth...
                             Sometimes people don't let love in -
       (an even sadder truth)
                                                                 *because they think they don't deserve it...

Alone I keep
All the lights
Off.
Ain't no
Sunshine
When
She's
Gone.

You
use to
comment on how
cold my hands always
were, back when you had
them to hold. I guess when
your heart is of ice, it tends
to somehow show Even in the
small ways, like the heart-to-hand
ice flow.