every sunset
i turn to the west
giving the fire a message i hope it can relay
when your dawn breaks tomorrow

i put all my hopes into the sun as it travels
hoping it can hold on to my feelings just long enough
for you to bask in them

if you want to
that is

Amidst the rancor of the bar the conversation lulled. After the last "remember when?" I watched the puddle of beer foam at the bottom of my glass.
"Ohhhh..." I mutter with a fleating half-grin. As if to say "Good times" but somehow unable to do so.
He sat across from me staring not at the empty Budweisers in front of him, bit past them. He stared into shadows around the edges, the floorboards below the table, and the earth beneath that. To him if he just looked hard enough, he could almost make out the other side of the world.
He clenched the can and it made a subtle pop yet remained uncrushed.
Staring on, just louder than a whisper, with a fleating half-grin, he said "I hate my life."

somebody once asked me what falling in love felt like.

so I said, Imagine coming home after a long day at work. You just got off the phone and your ears feel numb after almost an hour of your boss screaming endless insults. You climb up the stairs, stop at your door, grab your keys and just go inside. Once you've opened the door you're suddenly hit by the most amazing smell ever. You follow the delicious scent and when you get to the kitchen, there on that table, you see the best looking croissant ever. Its shell is golden brown, flaky, and it looks warm, and the butter is melting, hugging the croissant so tenderly, like a mother would hug her child.

the person laughed, that's funny she said you have a weird way of looking at love

a few beats of silence passed by. then shyly, she turned to me, fumbling with her words. she asks, what about falling out of love? what does it feel like?

i sigh it's like biting into the delicious, butter covered, golden brown croissant, only to find out it's not your favorite flavor.

we stay silent for a long time.

Relationships are all about balance
Being the yin to a yang
The subtle base to someone's loud twang
And while balance is crucial behind those doors
Why do people like to castrate the love someone else managed to create, just because the couples nationalities aren't yours?

They're not too good to date someone that happens to share their skin
But they found someone that makes them happy as a lark without and within
So really... is happiness an unforgivable sin?

It has become impossible -
to be optimistic, about love.

Each day goes down as the last.
Each night is as cold as the next.
Each venture collapses as the last.
There is no sustainable pleasure,
no sense.

Love has become a cynical public display.
It's not the love I grew up desiring from what I heard from poets.
It's not the love I grew up to treasure and search for.
This love is materialistic; a show off.
This is madness, not love.

This love is for puppets.
It's for two soulless individuals; figurines.
This love has no meaning;
no romance;
no affection.
This love is not for me.

The love I desire would never be completed -
if it were to be written.
But I will - someday,
write that love, and carve it with my lips;
on her, who will wake up beside me;
each morning;
and lay beside me, each evening.

I'm angry
I'm mad
I'm going to rant
But at the same time I don't want to write
I'm tired
And my hand takes up too much space
Everything about me takes up too much space
I'm suffocating the people in my life
I'm a balloon that's about to pop
And they need to cut the string

I'm sad now