I remember when I would always see you,
my heart would skip beats.
Now another has that affect on me.
who knew I'd finally get over you.

Another figure will come
To me—to change me
To love and be loved by me
To be the gasoline for my flame
To be the winner of my game
And he will let me write poetry
Inside his ripped blank pages
With pitch black ink as dark as
His deep lost eyes
And he will read and keep reading
Until he forgot to blink
Like my words and promises are
The alcohol he over drink

To truly love another
You first must love yourself...
Just don't do it in public !!!!

four of hearts and he whispers
"the best is yet to come"
Well, snap out of it.
think of sunshiney days on the Oval,
think of nights spent in your bed
think of blue skies
and smoke by the bridge

kissing on the couch,
heartbreak and PBR

I wish you here
to wipe the dust off my mouth

The new I miss you
doesn’t feel swell
I need your taste
so these bitter lips
stop feeding this limp world
It never was you
My muse.
it died long ago

I remember the letters
falling out of my fingertips
the touch of your hands
don’t feed my words
anymore
and its too late
To send a kiss
Redemption isn't allowed
once you turned away
on the person you were

Another night alone,
another empty bottle and
another ****** poem.
Another pack of cigarettes,
another finished bowl.
Another way to deal with it,
another line of blow.

And your intellect is wasted.
Let me tell you, your words will lose their depth.
Because she hears them and smiles,
but they are hollow to her.
They are just an extension of you.
Just another second, third, hundredth chance at half-assed affection that won't last the week.

I wonder what will become of your words.
Of your presence that fills all spaces in conversation.
I wonder what will happen to your heart.
That is more authentic than most and so contrasts her own.
Your mind that follows no one else.
And eyes which love your mother
and long patiently for the sea.
Your head that is tighter than your hold on me.

If she manages to ensnare you
with her black lips and hungry heart,
then I will forever wonder
If she is pulling these things apart.