Eloquence has little worth in the steaming hearth;
Where the ropes coil and knuckles crack from the strain.
Others set themselves free and pirouette in the stream
Because they don't carry the ballast on their feet;
Their tongue;
Their nerve.

There is a part of me buried within

Waiting for warmth and water

Awareness and sense.

She has remained hidden for some time

Waiting for my acknowledgement.

Others pass by with indifference

Stare all around but not within

Deposit dirt and dust from without.

I’ve found her much harder to see

The her that waits in silence, settled in peace.

When I come to know though, I see

That still, I am still here!

Still here;

In need of warmth and water

Still here;

With more sense and awareness.

And behind the dirt and dust

There lies a seed needing love to bloom.

There lies her needing my own to bloom.

I learnt once you stop writing poetry for that lightening bolt
That when you do not formulate for those numbers illuminated in red
When you are not afraid you will be the only one to see your words
Your poetry with be beautiful

We live in a world of OTPs
Shipping a love that doesn't exist.
We live in a time of "whoa is me"
When opportunity comes we tend to resist.

See we like the imaginary, you and me,
Living a life of heavenly bliss.
Some love it so much they tend not to see
That they could be missing their true love's kiss.

Step out of the fake and into the real,
I feel you would really like life here.
Trust me please when I say this dear,
Life will soon be better than your dreams.

when you suddenly realise your in love with your best friend.
the one that was there when you were in yr 8 and were going through your "I’m ‘creative’ with my fashion" phase
the one who was there when you liked all those guys and embarrassed yourself in front of them
the one who was there when you developed that eating disorder and hated everything about yourself
the one who was there when you became the very ***** you never thought you’d become
the one who was still there after all the **** you went through with your dad
the one who helped pick you up from the ground when life kicked the living **** out of you
the one who you never thought you’d ever find attractive.
the one who made you laugh until you cried
the one who creeped up on you without you really noticing
the one who swept you off your feet even when he didn’t want to
the one who you know you’ll find very hard to stop loving.

I don't really exist; she doesn't want to exist.
I watched the ocean move the sand across the ceiling floor.
Stranded on an island made of blankets.
I'm eating hallucinations. I'm feeling color.
She doesn't want to exist because I don't want her to.
My mind can't fathom visuals so intense as a living person.
Adventuring down into a spiral void I was born with. I'm not scared. I'm not uneasy. I'm an Adventurer.
I started this journey with three others but now it's just me and her.
But I don't exist; she doesn't exist; this world doesn't exist.
I'm only here for a moment and then it's back to the **** of my mind. Back to shaking hands with reality.
But I don't exist.
I'm merely an Adventurer.
Never here, never gone.
Only a tracer of light .
Always vanishing but never truly dissipated.
I'm like space and time. Stuck in a black hole.
I don't exist.