Glittering sea glass in the windowsill
I remember the ocean
but I'm lonely still.
I don't want to find happiness
through a tight packed pill
give me a value,
and put it in my untimely will.

I found a way out once
and now it's all I can think about
cold black metal
stuck in an open mouth.
Couldn't punctuate the sentence
now I am without
a plan or a passion
its all gone south.

I'm sharp like a bottle struck on the wall
I remember everything
can't forgive at all.
When will all this damage and tossing
do some good
when will I be handled softly
like pine becomes wood?
Looking for a statue of success
where a mother's first disappointment
once stood.

my battery level
is low
one tiny, red bar remains
no time to recharge
do i use it for me?
or do i once again
give it away?
what do i have to gain
if i allow my energy
to continually be drained?
i’m not insane
not yet
but things can always change
and i don’t have
much hope left
if things continue on
this way

To you hopeless romantic,
You wander these empty halls wishing to fill it with love
You dream of love meeting you on Saturday with roses and a coffee date.
But it's not your fate.
To you unlovable,
Do you really believe in love?
You who never felt but have been told how magical it is…do you think its true?
You wanted to feel needed but never really liked the ‘I really like you’ feeling.
How long has it been since you had some type of meaning?
To you unlovable hopeless romantic,
It feels like your not worth anyone’s time
Broken seems untrue but you now can’t deny that you really built walls a bit to high
You have so much love to give and there’s no one
Don’t wander so far down the dark empty halls
There’s always a bright open door
But how long can you really wait
when you know all the doors are tightly closed

I've exhausted my concern for her heart's desire.
And indeed, never even once deserved to be an antidote
Nor to be one who would have done that—whatever it was.

I always wondered: What flower will bloom when watered by venomous poison?
Or is the fertilizer the innocent soil of heaven—obtained from angels—or the deceit of the devil?
I tend not to care about her anymore—her utter destruction—even I won't interfere.
Let the false helper, the attention seeker, the remorseless hearted, save her.

The essence of all essence—guessing and surmising—why are you looking for rotten apricots in daylight?
When there's an apple, a sumptuous peach, and a sparkle of pomegranate seeds?
Like a snowy mountain, beautiful yet deadly—would you still climb it?
Even other metaphors could never describe the strangeness of your behavior—your friends, my friends.

Is it any different from digging a hole in the side of a rocky cliff with a pickaxe? No, it isn't.
Always remember that: Forget me.

You always choose to sort out and discard what's right, so that your mistakes will determine the direction of your future decisions.
Get lost—I'll leave you alone until you're truly sorry.
Even until the whisper of that callous is no longer heard in your mind.

Like a lonely rose
froze to stone,
heart hardened to marble
below a coat of snow;
barbed bones grow
labored and slow
but red petals
still radiate, aglow-
posed not quite open,
although not quite closed.

Warmer wind blows,
rain drops
clapping, lachrymose;
spring-lit spirit sprints
towards summer solstice, awoke;
green leaves,
emerald embers stoked,
emitting dandelion smoke.

Trophy bouquet meadows
of romanceless nosegay
and posy mosaic laying apropos;
seeds evoked and thrown
from my own torso.

Emotions
forwards flown
to almost certain vertigo
then swiftly sunk in undertow
from only breeze's uneven strokes;

No thing hallowed,
corpse bloated, decomposed;
worms hunger and burrow,
tomorrow sowing unknown woes-
soul harrowed as if I chose.

Throughout my life as a hopeless romantic I’ve seen the many ways of affection

And here I realize that when I see those many cliché ways, I end up in perplexion.

Because each time I give my heart to those I care for, I think I do something in an “unique” way

Only for me to realize I’ve been doing and romanticizing the cliché