i am not in love,
nor am i out of love, just
stuck in the middle.

it is midnight on
friday and i hope she's not
thinking about him.

you're a gulp of breath
and i am drowning.

i'm a droplet of water
and you're an ocean

i am less than human.
i am a creature that breathes just as they do,
but i am less than them.

i love to believe that i'd fit in
and be a real human some day,
but the little scars on my wrists and legs
move up and become more visible,
screaming
     "here i am"
     "come see"
     "look at how well i can hate"

i am less than human,
where i am a museum of
lazy little razors.

Sometimes I wish for once,
Things could go my way,
People wouldn't leave,
And I would be happy,

How strange it must be, I thought,
to find myself, in the midst
of a remarkable afternoon,
suddenly holding hands with the girl
who could rain fire down upon me
at a moment’s notice
She always walked on one side of me
silent and brooding
never letting go of my arm
I hummed to myself
and kicked at stones
I've waited for this
And now, I have her
Her, my only chance
"Take my arm, love.
Don’t run.
I can fix you."
My last sentence caught her attention
She looked at me
Those eyes that can make my knees wobble
I saw how vulnerable I made her feel
She hated that
Her feelings exposed to a stranger
I despised myself for saying that
I hated myself even more when she said,
"Go away. I don't need to be fixed."
Holding her face
I knew I can't redeem myself
The love I've waited
Gave everything for
Already giving up on me, on us
She let go of my hand
Also my heart
"I thought you're someone,
Someone who'll make me feel
I wasn't broken at all."

Excuse me sir, but
"Heartbreak" isn't metaphor
It's physical pain.

Passion is filling a void
That can never overload
Words flowing incessantly
But the glass always seems
Like it is running empty
Though a nod of satisfaction
When a piece is done
As soon as you think enough
You are once again a sponge
It is the people you adore
The new ideas you absorb
The tranquility you then feel and
A piece of paper becomes a thrill
You will not ever turn weary
Passion is fuel in the ordinary
Your own sun rising daily
Even when inspiration is lacking
All you wish to do is feed on
Words that acquire a life of their own
Hoping to be a channel
Of the change they enable
Words are more than what is needed
More than what you love and covet
Only writing can be result and seed
The cure and the cause that sees
Why passion keeps your feet on the ground
And rockets your soul to a higher ground.