Sometimes,
I think to myself,
that it's too good to be true.
Then I find myself wondering,
how I could be with somebody like you.
Only one date in,
it felt like a sin.
Because you're too pretty,
to be with a guy like me.
I guess it's really just,
my self esteem.

But I got to say
(I would probably every day)
You're just so ****** beautiful.

How to say it tho?
Of that I don't know,
how to show,
my thoughts when they're truly that sincere.

I mean, it's only been one month.
We really don't see each other much.
But you're really happy?
With me?

I'd show you this.
But then I might miss.
The chance for another date.
It's just,
I really appreciate,
the way that you're so thoughtful.
You listen and you're kind.
You never even say it if my poems are awful!

What is it I like so much?
You're,
well,
you're just as you as can be.
And nobody else.
And that's why you're so special.

I'm an idiot.
At least i'm smart enough to know so.

I aint slept sober in a couple days
no wonder why, we split our seperate ways
and that ****'s still on my mind
like will you pick up if i hit your line?
Was it really cause you're gay or was it just our time?
I don't think i can handle nights like this
thinking bout the bottle as an alternative
cause i know i wont sleep but atleast it's not as ****
i know i told you that i quit
and swear to god i was so proud of it
but the sweet release of not feeling a thing
is really tempting me to take a sip
or take a swig maybe chug a bit
maybe two, just for kicks
now im feelin fly
right in my sheets
but i still kinda wanna die
cause my two brain cells left
thinkin bout that feelin i would get
when you were layin on my chest
half brain cells dead
and im still ****** depressed
gave you back my wring and my only picture left
i don't want those memories,
Stuck, trapped in my head
runnin circles like was it all pretend?
Whose to blame?
I know i aint the best
but bonnie i swear, clyde's still right here
we can run away and chase the sunset
or go on down to the board walk, where we last met
get on that ferris wheel, cause i know it wasn't open yet
just don't say goodbye
cause i dont have a next
all i have is an ex's texts that left a mess in my chest still i check and red the dead roses in our envolopes i screen shotted just to choke back tears on later
maybe it's for worse, but maybe it's for better
is the past a curse, or is it a tether
to the ones that ment the most
so we know who we are, how we got there, and all the scars

You told me we were a mistake
an accident that casually happend and
we were nothing but lonely friends
that fooled around time again
but that look in your eyes
from all those lovely times
makes me want to believe
that it wasn't just a waste of life
it wasn't just a wasted drive
down to florida to see my grandparents
out by the ocean side
you make me feel alive

I never knew what it ment to really have a family
but *******, you were my everything
i could make you happy
if you'd only let me in
We would make each other smile
through all the thick and thin
and the closest i get to that these days
Is with a sedatitive
but that won't hold me tight
and tell me everything'll be alright

I keep hiding my words from the pages I write,
there is this fear of what goes on in my head may be interpreted differently than what it was never meant to be to begin with,
the anxiety builds upon itself,
manufacturing "could be's" and "what if's,"
when all I want to know is if someone is safe,
I regard myself to high standards but know that I can become a victim to my own open flaws,
like all open targets my heart sits open to public view which is alright to me,
I'd rather let the heart bleed than tend to the wounds others have made on it,
I am more than a collection of patches sewn on by lovers who thought my heart was saved,
I have a mind and body that holds scares and lacerations much harder to see,
for a longer explanation refer to my thoughts,
waiting to be written,
waiting to be found,
waiting to be understood,
on this ramble I'll simplify it by saying that you and I are so much alike,
and that is all,
our differences come from the experiences telling me how we are not like the other,
here I am still confused,
trying to understand why I am so different from those who I know,
why they don't express themselves the same as I,
it seems that answer is already known,
yet with this loose cannon brain taking shots at itself,
I forget easily,
that I am growing or fluctuating,
finding a balance that may appease the gods staring back at me,
there will be a day when all of our scattered thoughts combine,
I will finally be able to speak the words that you will understand.

don't know what I'm doing here,
came with high expectations
for my pretenses to fall through,
but the only one falling now is me;
I can't seem to understand,
how everyone else can do this so easily
live a life they never asked for,
as if they did and they're happy;
how could anyone be happy
in a world as cruel as ours,
where its cooler to not care
than to get angry and cry,
because there's nothing
that any of us can do to change it
anyway

anyway
what I'm saying is again,
I don't see a point to this *******
why fight, struggle, cry, and hurt
when the end game is the same;
dead and then forgotten, buried in the dirt
or burned and turned to ashes,
sitting pretty on a shelf or scattered to the wind
our bodies becoming nothing fast,
while our soul begins a new journey on its own
wherever that is, whatever it is
maybe I'm more ready than I thought
to taste that kind of freedom

i find that even when i sit down to read a book, before i begin, sometimes i’m hit with a wave of sadness, this heart-dropping feeling of loneliness, fear of the emotions i’m about to feel, the emptiness, the focus i’m putting on my own mind… allowing myself to face my own thoughts all alone as they run through my head… it’s a scary, weird feeling and i wish i didn’t feel like this... i need to stop being afraid of being left to myself, of being an individual. i need to find fulfillment in life, in things, in reading alone, in taking photos alone, in spending time alone, in going on a walk alone... in being alone. at the beginning of this year i wasn’t like this, i found happiness and made peace with myself when no one was around but it’s changed, because of /you/ it's changed, something’s shifted, and i want my old self back, i want it to shift back, can i reverse this? can i please take back my old self?...


what have you done to me???

All the stars in the sky couldn't outdo your shine...
sorry, that's a cliche line
so should i compare thee to a summer's day instead?
no, sorry, that's plagiarism;
i guess i'm not as good at this as i want to be,
but it seems every time i try to tell you how i feel
the words just escape me.
There's nothing original in my head,
so i resort to using poetry
that's been recycled instead. You do that to me, you know,

you take all these impressive thoughts, long words
revised from dictionaries during high school essays where
i should have been focusing on the question
but found myself
more interested by the way words with more letters
could have so little meaning; words with less letters
could store enough emotion to fill a blank void with
billions of burning lights - you could create a universe for somebody with
just four letters, but you could
simply make a small dent within the air by using nine.
l o v e
r e d u n d a n t
nine meaningless letters for a pointless word - even
the word itself acknowledges its lack of necessity.

It was upon pondering these thoughts, just now
as i write this silly little poem that's
lost its flow, lots its rhythm and rhyme just as i seem to
lose myself when i'm around you,
that i stumbled upon a discovery

and though this discovery held no comparison
to the miracle i uncovered in
discovering your existence, and the way your eyes shine warmly like lanterns
whenever you're happy (something which consequently brightens my
dark and broody spirits, lifting them out ever so slightly from the hell they reside in),
i found it to be an important discovery all the same.

See, words and letters and literary features,
they're all so... simple, and how better to communicate with another soul
than doing so simply, in language even toddlers can understand?
If a four letter word can be more meaningful
than a word containing nine letters, then maybe less
really is more.

I'm coming to my conclusion now, just-
bear with me, here. It takes a guy like me a lot of courage to admit to what he feels.
See, i was going to write about the way your smile shines
bright and beautiful like the sun, but i realised that would mean that i'd never stand a chance
because if ever i drew close enough for a kiss

you would burn me.

So here it is. Plain and simple.

I love you.

there is a plant in my room that,
with no rhyme or reason,
withers and droops and snaps
whatever the season.
at times when there is plenty of sun
streaming through,
enough for its buds to open
and leaves to unfurl
they remain closed tight
against the light
i do too.

there is a plant in my room that,
when oxygen is inhaled and
carbon dioxide absorbed,
it picks up its branches and tries
to let the warmth reach its skin,
to bring back its colour and bloom a little.
but the light does not warm any deeper
than a layer or two
and when the exchange is over and left
it droops again
i try too.

there is a plant in my room that
can sometimes forget its water
and its dirt that keeps it grounded.
though it knows that
its roots will shrivel,
and its petals will fall,
that the watering can will gather dust
and its tray will fill up stagnant
till the sheer weight of negligence
can tip over its *** and scatter its soil
i forget too.

there is a plant in my room that
knows one day the sun will stop streaming
and warmth won’t reach.
that no buds nor leaves will remain to hold tight.
that gaseous exchanges cease.
that layers will shed and bare branches.
that roots will disintegrate,
and that water will evaporate.
it knows one day it won’t find its way back
after tipping over one last time.
that its soil will find other
weeds to keep alive
and it will decompose.
and i will too,
for there is a plant in my room that
dies when i do