Pointless memories,
Unachievable goals,
Pain ,
Regrets  
All those things race through my veins and into my heart.
Nobody understands what it feels like , to glide on gravity with a hollow heart.  
Incapable to feel emotion , my heart is hidden in a somber moonlight.
My heart isn't impeccable as others. It's full of cracks and broken wires.
My heart doesn't properly function well with love...
Love Love Love Love Love
Makes my heart cringe , pumping very queasy when it thinks of love...
My heart uncontrollably bleeds , when it tries to dangerously stitchs love into it.
Nobody understands what it feels like , to glide on gravity with a hollow heart.  
Incapable to feel emotion , my heart is hidden in a somber moonlight.
Whose is to blame but thyself ?

I am easy to love and
easy (very easy) to hate.

I sing you, with my voice, to sleep,
and
your voicemail sings me to sleep.
It evens out. I often say this.

Love isn't the same here.
Love here is full of cigarette smoke and
fruit, kissed by flies before it's ever
touched by my lips.

And yet, for some reason,
I don't miss the love there. I don't
miss the chase, or the brazen looks.

This isn't much of a poem, it isn't
written in the
style
or (as my teacher would say)
with the artistry
of a true poem.
But it is my two minute poem for
you, even though you will
not read it.

You were everything I thought you would be,
And I think that's why this hurts so badly.

His words stab me in the heart,
Rip my insides to pieces,
Leave me bleeding.
Yet, sadly,
His words somehow try to place a bandage,
Over my wounds he caused.