there are plenty of things i wish for
and all of them
are just
you

homepage flooded
with poetry written
on topics such as
suicide,
hate,
harm,
loss,
pain
&
death;
we like it
and scroll down
we repost it
keep scrolling
we add it to our collection
and just like that
moments later
words forgotten
moved on
"next poem, please"
as if the poem
existed without
a person in pain
backing it up
as if behind the words
there was no soul
cracking at the seams
as if the poem itself
held more significance
than the (wo)man behind the pen

the least we could do
is acknowledge the existence
of the broken poet
behind the beautifully saddening poem

I stopped writing when....

When I was no longer broken -
unlike before with a heart suffocated
suffocated with feelings left unspoken,
with little things gone complicated.

I stopped writing when...

When I was no longer burdened
with thoughts circling in my head,
and pain excruciating like no end -
snapped my spine through the things you've said.

I stopped writing when...

When I was no longer in love,
When I was no longer suffering the feeling of longing,
When I was no longer...

i think stopped loving you because I can't write about you anymore.*

You don't deserve to be the subject of my writing anymore.

I like handwritten letters
And old paper back books
I like walks downtown past old buildings
With peeling paint and cracked side walks
I like old sneakers with holes in them
And soles that scrape the ground when you walk
I like things with stories to tell

I like to meet people and talk about minimal things
Things that won't matter to anyone else
The things that cause their eyes to sparkle
And make a smile tug at their lips
I like to listen to their opinions
The things they feel such passion for

Yet I do not like to stick around
Never do I get close enough to touch
No one makes it past the mask of sincerity
Masterfully placed on my face
Never do I let them breach the surface

I like to stay light and free
Of hurt, pain, and complications
And humans carry these things with them everywhere they go
So once I've learned all I can about a person I move on to the next

And continue my journey of life

I like old fashioned romances
Throwing rocks at windows
And cool walks in the night holding hands
I like good morning wishes and butterfly kisses
I dream of embraces so close
You can feel the trickle of their breath on your neck
Their heartbeat involuntarily syncing with yours

I dream of these things
These things I have longed to feel

I still get excited at the sight of a swing left vacant at a playground
Or mini marshmallows in hot chocolate
On bitter winter nights.