I'm sorry I have to say that as far as I can tell, you don't care about me nearly as much as I do you.
I'm sorry these words must be spoken.
I don't want my heart to be broken.
I need my thoughts to be proven true or false.
As far as I can tell, time has changed us.
Simply, my love is written in every message and poem.
My love is written in every car ride and every fear or worry.
My love is written clearly with black ink
And yours is written on a foggy window.

Do you think about me when you're going to sleep?
Do you think about me when you drink another glass of ***?
Do you think about me with love or lust?
Do you think about me at all?

I'm sorry my moonstruck man.
I'm sorry my lovely.
I'm sorry.
But you simply do not love me as much as I do you,
Or at least, you don't show it.

It's been about two years
Didn't know time could slip that fast
Away from my reach
Away from my heart
Did you leave so suddenly

Don't remember asking for much
Just wanted you to be there that's all
To stay with me for me
To stay with me for you
Probably for both of us

It's been two years and I'm still writing
Poems because that's how I can cope
From your sudden disappearance
From your sudden coldness
Two years and I still miss you

I've missed you, thinking of days past.
I couldn't escape utter silence.
I intentionally  revoked certain knowledge, standing on the steps of an haunted house.
A paper skeleton hung from the door, a ghost of broken promise.
Detachable limbs.
Threatening to call the police to interrupt a shot of tequila.
A certain ghoul, tequila.
Recollecting involuntary disgust.
The look of your eye.
Full, chocolate.
The horror heard from your voice. A sudden shriek shrouded by excessive need.
My world slowed, haunted by your everlasting stare.
That Insidious scene played once again.
The cruelty of silence.
A ghoulish thing, the haunting of something no longer there.
Please I beg of you, next Halloween reconsider dressing as a ghost.
I'll miss you even more

When she left she couldn't help but to leave that soft and sweet fragrant scent behind. You right, love is blind. There are other senses which make me miss her. Don't get me wrong, she is a enthralling flower. However I'm only reminiscing on the way she lingers, I'm drawn in by every 'come here' gesture of her finger. The openness of my nostrils, the little chill hills which coexist with my follicles. Jasmine... she is so honorable.

Every song reminds me of you
A specific soundtrack of each time you've made me smile
The times we just laid and talked about nothing
separate lines of the phone
One side of the bed or the floor
Every song reminds me of you
I've listened to other genres only to find that the feeling still resonates
Wondering the what if of any moment
That sudden impact that strikes when the song breaks down
The need to hold on tighter
Wondering that If at any moment you'd actually pick up the phone and call
Pretending to ignore the melody that makes my head nod
The foot taps that echo hearts delight
The comfort of being at ease
My heart being heard through the speakers
Every song reminds me of you
Every chorus a simple reminder of the times shared between you and I
The melody my heart sings only around you
The addiction of throughly repeated songs
Fighting the urge to press the skip button knowing the next song only does the same thing
Bring back that irreplaceable ache that pains only to be near
The you tube of the minds eye, the Google play of the heart
Resonating each and every memory
Each and every time I fell deeper in love with a song that reminded me of you
Trying to replace that feeling of comfort that jolted soon as the song would start
Now days every song reminds me of you
Old new between
A different sample eclipsing times spent with you
Different artists, different melodies
They all remind me of you

The attic still reeks
of your sandalwood scent
and the broken floors
still groan with
your name between their
creases and their grit.

The windows still
cradle your shadows
and the walls still
whisper of your name
in the silence
of the moon’s silver light

House, is not a home.
And what are four walls, anyway?

They are as good,
as the hearts that live
inside of them.

And what if…what if,
your home that keeps your heart warm
becomes some stranger’s arms?