sitting on top of the world and being understood.
the gaze into my eyes, so I could focus on yours.
the days love songs would resonate a bit more.
our dope conversations and the breaks I‘d take just to get my fix,
but now my walks home are quiet
and my playlist just doesn’t sound the same.
In my cocoon of sadness.
I once crawled to you, but you can leave.
I guess you grew out of us and bloomed before me.
Once mixed with a shade of blue
but now there are so many colors on you.
It must be nice to feel free as you fly.
To spread your wings and have your uncertainties beautified.
A work of art, so is it wrong that I keep painting you on every canvas?
I’m staining my memory ‘till I can’t stand it.
A picture's worth a thousand words,
but having them counted hurts.
I guess it’s best that I digress, redirect my pens sadness and settle myself into a happy nest.
I had many cold nights, but the anger that I pent is becoming less.
You should see yourself.
Things only levered south on my end, I need a new compass.
I forget to pretend I don’t remember it being just us.
They’re gone now, those pictures never did you justice.
It’s been a while, but I’m right here where you left us.
You used to love the way I “said things”,
so just know
when you hear me say,
“I write every day”
My mouth just conveyed that your memory remains.
The remnants of my soul still remembers your whole name
because even though
my co-star suddenly became
frightened by the stage,
Now I’m sick to my stomach,
when it used to be butterflies.
Although right now it means nothing,
all I can do is give you an apology
and pardon me for the tears you shed.
I kept you hidden cause I wasn’t ****.
Folders filled with secrets
I feared others could never accept.
I eradicated all of the intimate pics you ever sent.
All I have are mental mementos.
Memories, that are near gone and faded.
It helps not to remember because
I’m haunted by “we almost made it”.
I dare not to remember the sweetest kiss
I’ve ever been graced with
or let the next one even remotely resemble
the control you had over me.
You’re not the one I thought you’d be.
Truthfully, I wish you were here,
so I keep you in my poetry to feel you near.
We had no title, so why am still thinking about it?
We never had a title, but I could always read you.
I can’t sleep at night.
I wish you would at least pretend
to care for me the way you used to.
My appetite is gone.
It’s just been eating away at me how hungry I am.
It’s hard going back once you’ve had a taste.
Poetry is a lie disguised behind mysterious words... no wonder I write so much.
You know the things you do for validation obscure your worth, but you go for it anyway because there’s nothing that feels worse than the hurt.
A little reminder that something you’ve had since birth is desired lights a fire fierce enough to remove your shirt.
You’re lost, but still, find yourself in other people.
You keep finding the pain, the kindness, it’s an endless sequel.
I thought all I wanted was to show my truth,
but I’ve been lying to myself that I’m over you.
I doused a flame with gas to boost an ego and it burned me.
How lovely, I have no shame, I keep bringing you up to myself.
I thought I needed this, but now I know that some people make other’s “happy” wherever they go;others; whenever they go.
-Antonio Espinal /Oscar Wilde
I walked alone one spring,
It was a cold March.
How lucky does that make me knowing
April was on the way?
Another year to you, but May I say that the month of June knows why the way July came about wasn’t such a surprise after August came to life.
So yes, “Wake me up when September ends” because when we don’t want the blues we take anyone else’s Green Day.
We don’t know what we want ‘til it’s over.
We do it to ourselves.
If three’s a crowd, why do we always seek the four leaf clover?