the poem had started with that lump in my throat, so small at first but it grew and I thought it would stop eventually but the more I thought the more I gave it power and it was horrible.
it was a homesickness that crawled under my skin, screaming to escape....
like some sort of lovesick sailor alone at sea begging for someone to hear him but the only thing there was was the lonesome breeze
It's so hard to explain why it started but I know it had something to do with you....
the words were building up and up and up until I couldn't breathe I felt intoxicated, everything was fuzzy, getting dizzy
that little lump that started in my throat was now killing me
it was all because of our ending
such a lack of commitment and it broke my heart
there was no voice to scream anymore just the hallowed out lungs of someone who was forced to forget how to breathe

I've started looking at your location less....
and I mean that's nothing amazing but it's something
it's something that I've taken out of my routine, something I'm not thinking about as much which means your a little less on my mind
still not by much.... but it's enough.
It's almost been a month and I have slowly stopped comparing the days to the last time I saw you or to where we made all those memories I stupidly thought would last forever, I guess that's something else
my standards of 'okay' are not very high which is such a shame because I could really go for the feeling of being whole again
it's just a fond memory that has disappeared into the dark night
or from the moment you left me.
god, I don't think I'll ever forget, your voice, your hands, your smile, the way you'd talk about everything you loved.... I just thought I was one of them.
I should stop writing about you I really should but it's the one thing you didn't take from me, actually you did the opposite, I drown in my words now, they bleed from me.... maybe that's why I feel so empty?
either way it's like a choke hold on me, forcing me to bring up something about you, I am drowning in your memory which is bleeding from my hands uncontrollably.
I just wonder if you think of me?

you,
you get me.
like a cold whisper wrapped in chrome,
a sharp promise in a stranger’s home.
you don’t knock.
you don’t wait.
you slip in,
like silence disguised as fate.

you found me,
where ache sang loud,
where sleep ran dry,
where love and connection died,
and nothin' was allowed
but pain—
and the desire
to make it stop.

so I picked you up.
slammed hope down with the plunger,
felt the fire hum
as it rolled like thunder
through my veins—
and everything went
quiet.

and in that quiet,
he was there..
in the burn, the gasp for air,
his ghost pulled up a chair—
like we were finally real.
not just words.
not in time.
just this..
this ritual.
this ruin.

maybe it’s grief.
maybe it’s love.
maybe I miss him enough
to hurt myself to get close
just one last time.

you,
you see the real me.
no mask, no dilution,
raw, like nerve exposed.
you don’t judge.
you don’t speak.
you sink in deep.
you let me bleed.
you gave me peace.
you gave me space
to dream of some place
soft and slow—
between the devil and death's
kind relief—
anywhere but here.

you left tracks like poetry.
the monster stirred
but i didn't worry,
didn't breathe a word,
you brought me back,
for seconds at a time.
in that blur, in that high,
feel the pull from within the tide,
i sign the song of the the needle’s rhyme.

that’s the madness—
the comfort in staying sad.
found home in loneliness.
you aren’t the high.
you’re the hand that held it.
the lie
that knew I’d always sell it
to myself.
time and time again.

o needle,
you elegant reaper,
you plastic preacher,
you quiet sleeper,
you stitched a father
to his son
in blood—
not bond—
and called it love.

but I will reach again,
with my hands undone.
one more breath,
one more run,
still, every time I wonder,
if the needle’s already won.

Do you remember our garden?
The one we used to dream about?

We planted seeds and flowers rose from the earth.
Do you remember our garden,
where the birds once sang
and sunlight painted everything gold?
Do you remember what happened to our garden?

What became of our flowers,
our seeds, the birds, the sun?

Perhaps they began to rot after you colored the soil red.  
When you stepped over our flowers
and broke the wings of the birds.

I want you to weep for the blood you spilled.
I want you to mourn our garden
and the roots you burned.
I want you to look at the ashes
and let them remind you of the life
you chose to bury.

Do you remember our garden?
The one we used to dream about?
-  I still do.

I should have seen this all coming....
the 3am crying and silent screaming, I knew it was coming, I knew from that moment you left me standing out in the rain on that horrible august day
I stupidly forgot what it felt like to be lonely, to be so alive at midnight or 2 in the morning, having no one to care about
funny how you used to be my best friend, not a single secret on my part, I was committed with my whole heart but you started getting strange.
our love died slow and strange cause it was only last week you were saying I held your heart, what happened to that flame?
it was washing away and there was nothing I could do but sit there and beg, it all ended the same even with me screaming for you to hear, now I question why did I even cared?
our love suffocated in this air and now I'm stranded with the echoes of your lies at the horrible hour of midnight.

I miss you.... It's quite ridiculous how much, I knew I would in many ways because we had somehow become one, but I did not think it would be like this.... I truly did not prepare for this
it's unbelievable how essential you had become to me
I know I should not have to make you love me any more by giving myself away like this, but I love you and foolishly I would have done anything for you
all of a sudden missing you had not become so simple....
it was something I held on to to remember you, have any sort of proof to say I really knew you, but in all the holding on I had lost parts of myself and this whole ordeal had become not so wholesome.
I do not resent you, I love you too much for that even still,
you had broken down all my defenses or I had let you that part is unclear
but either way it does not matter because even now even after everything I love you, and truly I think even from afar I'll continue too.
but please know I will always miss you

The child looks like a clown because of what you did…

The child’s not scared of clowns now, they’re not scared of anything…

Soot on their face and blood on their lips…
They’re broken inside, yet we are the sick…

My friends can't stop loving or wishing to find someone to love more
to find someone to hold them, to hold open the door
Someone to buy them roses when they go out on dates
Or watch a movie together, staying up late
But forever they go from person to person
to find the perfect match, to believe in true love
They hurt and they cry, holding their hands to their chests
Their trust was broken, and their needs continued unmet
To me, love is pain. And I can't bring myself to love anyone
Though I've tried..
Love cannot be trusted, and love cannot be held
Most of the time, love is unsuccessful for those who fall under its spell
If it's true that everyone has one, with a red string tied to each other
Someone perfect
Someone who is kind
Someone who will fit the needs of the other
When will I meet mine, or the others to stop the pain
Why must we continue to search for a treasure only to be in vain?
What if it's a myth
a fantasy
a folklore told tall ?
A secret, a story to keep hope when it continues to fall?
Humans are made to rely on others, to never hold on their own
With two pieces of a puzzle to continue evolution, to move a tower
to plant a beautiful flower, or other plants to be sown
Is it true that we're made in pairs
yin and yang, opposites always in some sort of constant compare
How is that love, and how is that peace
What if one is to forever sleep?
Prince Charming isn't coming, and a kiss will not wake
those who don't trust the world with their own fate.