you're like a dog
running back to its owner
the owner who first abandoned it
back to the owner who abused it
having loyalty to all the wrong things
faith in all the wrong places
love for all the things that hurt them

you don't want her to consume your thoughts
to fill your dreams, your nightmares
so instead, you make her your muse
you write about her in messy blue ink
you let her come back to life on the paper in front of you
just to see her dance one more time

you are like a dog
loyal to all of the things that hurt you

ever get those words flowing into your head?

and you have this urge to write it down.

because you know if you don't,

it'll be lost forever into the abyss of your mind?

i get that a lot...

and i can' write it on my phone,

because i'd  miss that sound of my pen scratches through the rough paper.

and sometimes,

its the only sound i hear in this quiet room.

An October night
With skin as our blankets, beneath
The windows screens, no longer white

A sudden chill, a rush of hope
With silver skies out a windowsill
And the time to cope with life

We sleep, of sorts, with minds awake
And bodies lying still

your heart is as dark as the color of your eyes
a black hole hidden within a person
sending lovers tumbling and tumbling
constantly falling
but never reaching an end
never reaching security
the toxicity of your love is tragic
and yet you do not know it
ink seeping from your teeth
poison words
lethal lullabies
a siren singing her seductive song
she paints herself a pretty picture
luring you into the vortex of her heart
a black-eyed beauty
waiting for her chance to shatter you
to make you fall
like stars from the night sky

we met when we were both unraveling.
i was speeding around in my car with music blaring not caring if one day i never went home and you pushed away the truth because you didn’t like the sound of other peoples opinions

you were a breath of fresh air, someone who cared about the crazy thoughts in my head and you called them poetic when sometimes i wish you would’ve just reminded me that it’s okay to cry, i don’t have to appear happy and strong all of the time

i was a thunderstorm of emotions and as i stood in the pouring rain i watched as my house burned down. instead of opening up and telling you i let it rip apart my insides because i didn’t want to burden you with the reality that you couldn’t fix it, you couldn’t fix me

i was a book shut tight, with an unbreakable lock keeping me closed and you were silent and didn’t like the taste of my name in your mouth until it was too late. together we were a mess, a storm of emotions, an unhealthy love affair

Sometimes it's almost frightening,
daunting
to come here and see
all the beautiful poems,
all the poets
who are so much better
than me...
I have so much admiration
so much awe
that sometimes I wonder
why I try to write at all,
but now and then
I'll come back here
and do my best to pen, to write
and hope I can overcome
my sense of fright...

Seems every time I come here I see
another change to my beloved HP--
oh well, I guess I'll try to stick around
and hope my writes don't sink or drown
in this abyss of the unknown --
(which seems to be the here and now) --
I hope all my peeps are still here somehow
and hope too that everyone knows I still care
it's just so disconcerting to come here and stare
and wonder what the heck is going on here
Perhaps in time it will all become clear?# Ami