Sometimes,
My brain doesn’t understand how to get from
Point A to Point B
Without hitting Z, F, G, P
A symbiotic drum
Beating to our heartbeats

Sometimes,
My mind doesn’t know
How to count from one to ten
Without bringing twelve and ninety
To bubble up in between
It is a potion gone wrong in all honesty

I don’t go from being friends to acquaintances
Its all or nothing
Love and hate
Lust and disgust
There is no middle ground

Sometimes,
Thats the problem.

I need someone to hold me near when things inside get too austere.

But, who would want to fill that role when I for one am much too cold?

Some have tried to fix this hole, but all have ended up in my stranglehold.

It seems that the gods enjoy quiet malice when looking down on my calloused gladness.

Why do I seek out love and life, when I tend to cut them loose with a carving knife?

What better way to spend my free time than with rhyming and cursing the time and what's mine.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m the reason, the inspiration, and the thing that pushed you through some of your hardest struggles. If I’m part of your thoughts that you write about; the thoughts that you pour out into your poems and music.
I sometimes wonder if I matter enough. Matter enough that sometimes the things around you remind you of me. Like when you look at something, you smile because my name is the first thing you think of.
Sometimes I wonder if we’re actually right for each other. Like maybe we don’t know it yet, but maybe we were made for a reason. Made for each other. As if maybe all our broken pieces of ourselves fit together.
Sometimes I wonder if the poetry I write, will ever be as good as yours. If it will ever have as much meaning to it as the poems you write. Through all the pain we went through. As if yours will always be so incomparable and impossible to write and put it out on paper. Through your scars and the things that broke your heart.
Sometime I’m left wondering if I will ever be the person that will cause you to feel loved again. The person that makes you smile because they are the first thing you think of when you wake up and the last thing before you fall asleep. I often wondering if I ever will be the person that can help you pick up the pieces of your broken heart and put it back together. The person that takes your breath away and helps you breath at the same time. The person that will love your perfections but most of all your imperfections. I don’t know, but I still hope that maybe someday I can be all that and more for you.

I really want to see
If you reached out to me
Like you promised
And possible revel
in the silly long
Banter of our old voices.
It seems a lifetime
turns to a month
That you got older
Becoming more preoccupied.
But I don't want to let myself See
Because another let down
Would leave me lonely.